Harry Potter and the Origin War
by Orion Spellsword
Summary: The summer after Harry's third year, Sirius doesn't leave Harry with nothing. Now armed with all the knowledge of the Marauders, and unhampered by house prejudice, Harry will take the world by storm.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling, or Pottermore. Any Characters, items, or significant lines/copyrighted material belongs to its creators. This is a statement for all following chapters. I make no profit from this writing exercise.**

Number Four Privet Drive was a beautiful house, it had an immaculately mowed lawn, beautiful flowerbed, and it seemed to pulse with intensity. Magic seemed to empower the house itself. Passing people spoke of its beauty, neighbors congratulated the owners, and not a soul paid heed to the source of the beauty, the source of the magic.

Harry had been told about the state of the wards by his godfather, that they were nearly dead and needed him to recharge them. Sirius gave Harry a book on runes and a basic overview of the ward scheme on the house, and a valuable book written by John Potter, Harry's Great-Grandfather.

John Potter created the national wards that detected the use of under aged magic by its slightly different signature from an adult's magic. In Sirius' notes he explained the wards tracked the magic based on its immature quality, equating it to a persons' voice. As a person gets older their voice deepens, becoming more mature and less childlike, the same is true for magic, it 'deepens' as the witch or wizard gets older. One key difference that Sirius pointed out is that unlike a voice, magic can be easily manipulated into behaving like it's older than it is. Harry was preforming exercises that allowed him to keep his magic deeper, longer. The problem with deepening his magic like he was is that it would force his body to mature faster, to keep up with the demand of the magic, which could easily shorten his natural lifespan.

'_My natural lifespan was shortened when Voldemort targeted me' _Harry thought when he read that.

The exercises were such that if he performed them every night they would have a compounding effect, the more often he did them the more his magic deepened. The problem is that a young person's magic will restore itself quickly, so Sirius suggested using that to Harry's advantage, if he would perform the exercises once every night, for a week then move to every three nights, he wouldn't get hit hard with the physical backlash.

Harry had been practicing magic in the confines of his room for four days, he would leave at eight in the morning and get back in his room at about five, this gave him time to do the chores the Dursley's mandated while giving him ample free time to write his essays. With Sirius's reputation Vernon was barely willing to even raise his voice against Harry, apparently Sirius tormented the man when Lily invited James and Sirius over, and Vernon happened to be there.

One day Harry had gotten out of gardening because the pouring rain, and he noticed a book on his bed, one that hadn't been there that morning. The book was a leather bound journal about the size of his standard book of spells, the largest tome he needed for school.

Attached to the cover was a sticky note that read _What do you solemnly swear?_

Grinning like a loon Harry placed his wand tip on the cover of the book and said "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Before his eyes the gentle brown of the book melted away to a deep black, with golden lettering that read _The Grimoire of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Marauders and brothers in magic_. Harry couldn't believe his eyes, over this last year Hermione had spoken occasionally about Grimoires, books of ancient and powerful magics. They had no equal in knowledge or the ability to contain an entire library between their covers. As he opened the front cover he saw a different note, scribed in Sirius' elegant hand.

_Harry, this book was the brain child of your dad, Remus, Peter, and myself, it contains every spell we created, every spell we altered, and our notes on pranks, potions, and the Animagus transformation. James and I passed a law on the Wizengamot that if there was not legal prosecution on a person acts such as attempting, and succeeding on becoming an Animagus did not need to be registered, this means that as long as your magic is deep enough to fly under the radar you can use our notes to complete the transformation. There are three methods, we discovered one of them in Hogwarts because we did not know how the transformation was done. You can find all three methods outlined in this book, and I recommend that you use this to your advantage._

_James comes from the Ancient and Noble house of Potter, simply put, you have money and prestige. I can't name a family as old as ours (the Blacks are also Ancient and Noble) that can be considered well and truly 'light'. Your Great-Great-Grandfather, John Potter's father, taught Grindewald all that he knew about the dark arts, and if you're to kill Voldemort you need to be able to arm yourself to your teeth. That means you need to change your electives, I think that Trewlany is an underestimated woman, but you're not a seer. Arithmacy and Runes would allow you to create spells and wards, and destroy wards. Both are very important tools in the belt of a fighter._

_Pup, I wish that you didn't need to change, and I wish that you could have had a normal childhood, but you said you wanted a family. That means I want you to have a family, so you have to pull your self-righteous head out of your arse and get to learning. Voldemort will come back soon, Dumbledore told me the prophecy you heard a few weeks ago, this book contains spells that will befuddle the mind, boil blood, and cause someone's own body to attack them. Some people think of your mother and father as saints, kindly deliver a message for me; Fuck off. Lily found out about Remus' condition in her sixth year and offered exactly what we did, to break the present law and become an Animagus to help with his transformations. That was the turning point in Lily and James' relationship, no longer did she see an arrogant ass, she saw a pureblood lord with a right to an ego, and an actual ability and drive to help people. Sorry, bit of a tangent, the point is that some of the darkest spells in this book will cause your enemies to spontaneously combust, or their blood to stop carrying oxygen, these were created by Lily. She had a devious mind with the ability to back it up with strong magic and stronger beliefs, it's honestly a wonder that none of us were in Slytherin, James most of all._

_Don't buy into the belief that all Slytherins are evil, that's like saying that all Blacks are evil, a general label that doesn't bring certain factors into account. I am the Lord of the Ancient and Noble house of Black. I am not evil. Andromeda was a black, she married a muggleborn and has a daughter that went into Hufflepuff, and is currently training to be an auror. You need to expand your circle of friends, a war is brewing, and Voldemort is going to be smarter this time. The next war will be a Shadow War, you'll need people who can help fight in the shadows, I can think of three in Slytherin who might help._

_Daphne Greengrass is a pureblood that has been raised to see things in her own light. Her parents didn't indoctrinate her to believe that she was above others, but rather expect her to simply know it. Show her the folly of following Voldemort, show her your scar and explain that Voldemort wants to end the lines of the Potters, Perevells, the Bones, the Weasleys (even if they're not as powerful anymore) and the Longbottoms. She should understand that Voldemort only wants power for himself, she is a true Slytherin, too ambitious to fall at the hem of Voldemort's robes. _

_Tracey Davis was raised the same as Greengrass, but is kind of like how Ron is to you, if Greengrass follows you, so will Davis. These two witches will be invaluable to your cause if they join you. _

_Finally you could reach out to Blaise Zabini, his mother is widely believed to have killed her seven husbands, but considering I planned to ask her to marry me in Hogwarts, I knew her, and everything her family did. The Zabini family is very powerful in Italy, and has the criminal underworld wrapped around their fingers. Isabella Zabini was framed for at least six of her husband's deaths. I know this because the guards in Azkaban (the human ones) brought in a contract killer. They heard him muttering about one of his hits, the prisoner was hired to kill one of Isa's husbands. The guard knew about my relationship with Isa and moved the guy next to me so I could know for sure. If you could get Blaise on your side, he would be a powerful ally, and his family has extremely well protected houses on the continent, even better than the blood wards around your aunt's house. _

_Somehow Fudge got legislation passed that allowed for the Triwizard Tournament to come back to Hogwarts, normally I would be ecstatic that it's been revived, but if you look at your track record you may end up being forced to compete. Most of the spells from first to fifth year in this book are minor things like charms for hair loss, or other pranks, but once you get to the sixth and seventh years, James and I had taken Ancient Runes, and Arithmacy, allowing us to create our own spells. Some spells in here are more than just a little dark, and I would like for you not to attempt them in front of Dumbledore. _

_Now that the heavy stuff is out of the way, just remember that you're only thirteen, turning fourteen, and should focus on your life a little. Some people may find it selfish but there is no point in living a life in this world if you don't enjoy it. Fight for your freedom, fight for your future, and never back down from a fight you can't lose._

_Your Godfather, Sirius._

Harry's mind was reeling as he set down Sirius's letter, the man overturned nearly everything that he knew or thought about his parents. The thirteen year old boy sat on the corner of his tiny bed and reached for the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. Harry's fingers brushed over the faces of his mother, her laughing face full of joy, and her brilliant emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. His father's arm was around her, James' handsome face seemed to scream of untold mischief as his hand that wasn't on Lily's shoulder fingered the end of his wand. Sirius was in this shot, his head poking up behind James or Lily as he moved, his bright grey eyes shone with joy, and he looked at the photographer like a man in love. Harry realized that Isabella must have taken the picture, and the whole picture shook occasionally, she must have been laughing at the scene that Remus and Peter were making in the background. Remus was shirtless and flirting with a pretty blonde, as Peter was behind her making faces at Remus.

Harry was surprised by how well Remus and Peter were getting along, even though he knew he shouldn't be. Peter wasn't as fat as he was in the shrieking shack, there was no muscle on him but he didn't seem fat all, just short and squat. Remus on the other hand was very muscular, the scars adorning his arms stretched with each time he flexed, and the blonde girl would blush sometimes.

Harry cursed Pettigrew once again as he saw what the rat had ripped from the world, Remus had told him why he couldn't come see him at all the past few years. When Sirius went after Peter, and subsequently was thrown in Azkaban, Remus went into shock, as a pack creature he couldn't handle his pack being ripped apart like it was. For months Remus did nothing but work, sleep, and get drunk. The aftermath of Sirius' apparent betrayal had lasting, maybe permanent, effects on the werewolf's body and magic. When Remus realized that Harry would be starting Hogwarts he left his life of isolation and joined the world, he got a membership at a muggle gym, and started to beat his body back into shape. When Sirius broke free from Azkaban Remus began to have doubts about whether he actually killed Peter. It didn't add up to Remus that Sirius would kill Peter and a dozen muggles, but leave all the guards of Azkaban alive, the Marauders had created nearly a dozen spells that could be cast wandlessly to kill in seconds.

Harry was brought back to the present when he heard Vernon's car door slam, and the great oaf barged into Harry's room, barely fitting through the average sized door. Vernon's face was a marvelous shade of puce, his brow was dripping sweat, and his meaty hands were cluctching a letter sized piece of paper.

"BOY," He roared, "I NOT TOLERATE ANY OF YOUR FREAKISH FRIENDS SENDING ME MAIL AT WORK!" With that he threw the paper to Harry, balled up to about double the size of a regulation snitch. Harry read the short note on the paper and chuckled to himself.

"Uncle, this note is from my Godfather, all it is, is him asking you to be kind to me this summer. Notice the elegant script it's written in? Sirius was a member of the House of Lords, he even had land here in muggle England." Harry suddenly had a rather devious idea, "And, Uncle, I think you should notice it came to you at work, would I be correct in assuming it was delivered by a courier?" Vernon nodded his rapidly paling head. He realized what Harry was trying to say. "Obviously by your complexion, you realize that means that Sirius knows where you work, and he certainly knows where you live. This uncle Vernon, is simply a message." Harry smirked in spite of himself, suddenly remembering where the sorting hat wanted to put him to begin with.

Vernon's face now resembled that of Nearly Headless Nick's in pallor, as he tried and failed to find his voice, he looked at the Grimoire on Harry's desk, and the wand next to the boy's hand, before making a hasty retreat.

Harry quickly realized that the Grimoire would be a much better book to study, as the spells it contained would not be taught at Hogwarts, unlike the spells in his schoolbooks. Harry quickly found a spell to alert him if someone was standing outside his door, and one that allowed him to turn one side of his door transparent to see the person on the other side. James and Sirius discovered this particular combination from the door to Professor McGonagall's office. After spending an hour drawing on pieces of parchment, Harry was confident that he could replicate the runes to place on the corners of his door with a beam of magic shot from his wand. Another thing Harry realized was that the harder he tried to concentrate on learning acts of magic the more easily he became distracted by stray thoughts, sights, smells, or sounds. After about five hours of this Harry realized that his problem was not quite just in his head and was probably magical in nature, so he sat down and started to pen a letter to Sirius to ask him about it.

_Padfoot,_

_I've been trying to learn some of the spells in the book, but can't seem to concentrate. I don't really think it's just natural distractions, did you guys curse the book in any way? Maybe it has a minor effect on me._

_Thanks for the book, and for the letter, it gave me a lot to think about._

_Son of Prongs._

* * *

Harry spent several days reading about the Wards that Sirius detected on the property, and reinforcing the charms on his door. He also spent time looking at various means of travel, from the Apparation that isn't available until he was seventeen. There was also the Floo network, but that needed a fireplace that was connected, and the Dursley's was not. The last piece of transportation was the only one really covered in the grimoire, portkeys. A portkey was an item that 'pulled' a person to a point that the portkey was tethered to. A portkey could be made out of anything, from a shoe to a boulder, but were regulated by the ministry. Sirius's slanted, elegant script explained that the methods used to track portkeys was a farce, incapable of detecting the vast majority of the objects. Only if you used the 'Ministry Regulated' spell would you be detected as having cast it. The Grimoire detailed four separate methods of portkey creation, two spells, a runic circle; and lastly, a potion. One of the spells was very simple, a spoken _'Portus Oblius' _would circumvent any tracking on the ministry's part. The drawback to that method is that portkeys created with that spell are simple to track, once you get to either the beginning or terminal points, making it a poor choice for a combat portkey. James discovered that the incantation _Tacite Atque Celeriter Reverti _would make a portkey able to take someone back to a safe location in the middle of a fight, and saw frequent use by wounded Death Eaters in the first war.

Harry also learned charms of concealment, in theory. The use of the disillusionment charm escaped him on the times he tried it, and the only footstep muffling spell he could perform without too much practice let off small amounts of light with each step. He read a lot of the spells, and was morbidly fascinated by the dark curses in the back of the book. As Harry read, he noticed the block on his learning skills more and more frequently. Thinking back, he realized that the book was not the culprit, he had these problems learning in Hogwarts as well. Harry jumped, having been startled by a tapping on his window. There was a large black raven standing on the sill, tapping its beak against the glass, with a letter attached to its leg.

Harry opened the window, allowing the bird to perch on Hedwig's stand, and took note of it's unusual features. Its talons seemed to be made of silver, and were razor sharp. The bird had an intelligence in its eyes that was unnerving, as if it was judging him. The feathers on its head were all black, save one. Directly between its eyes lay a silver feather, it reflected light as if it were real silver, but had the shape and look of a fully functional feather.

It stuck out its leg and cawed softly, indicating for Harry to take his letter.

_Son of Prongs,_

_I'm sorry that I couldn't get back to you sooner, I've been getting settled in to my new location. But regarding the Grimoire, there shouldn't be any curses on the book bound to you. You're the son of two of the people to write in it, there's no way it would harm you. The way I see it is that you have two options. One is to learn Occulmency. That's the art of defending your mind from those who seek to enter it for their own purposes. It can be used as a great study tool, allowing you to place information in your mind in such ways for you to find it easily. I'm going to teach it to you at some point anyway. The second method, which I do recommend you pursue, is that you go to the goblins in Gringotts, and have them look at your scar. I didn't see it for very long, but with how it looked fresh it most likely has remnants of magic in it. The idea of having soul based magic in such proximity to your head seems very bad to me, so I'd get it checked out by an objective third party, besides; soul magic is not studied at all in the U.K. I don't think the healers of Saint Mungo's would be able to find it._

_If the goblins do find something, I ask that you send me a letter first, explaining it. The little toad-dwarves like to think they're better than everyone else, but they could really do some serious damage to your mind if they don't fully understand what it is they're dealing with. Just tell them that you want to look to see if someone else has similar prices, if you manage to make everything about money they may just respect you. Never take a goblin's word at face value, the creatures are universally insane. Thousands of years ago some half-wit alchemist transmuted a dwarven embryo and a tadpole egg together to create the first goblin. It was the single most successful piece of life transmutation ever accomplished. But all life transmutation has a drawback in the creature, for the goblins it's insanity. I tell you this not to scare you but to warn you, do not trust a goblin unless you have no other choice._

_Padfoot_

_P.S. This raven is Noctem, the messenger of Lord Black, expect a different bird every time I send you a letter. However if you think that someone is trying to trick you, just ask them to resend the letter, if it's me I'll send it back with Noctem._

_P.P.S. Noctem is a Divine Raven, supposedly the messengers of the gods. If I'm not mistaken, he is one of the only ones left certainly the last domesticated one._

* * *

The day after receiving the letter Harry made a plan to get to Gringotts, he donned one of Dudley's spare caps, resized his clothes to fit him better, and changed his hair color to a dull brown. He quickly left the house, having completed many of that day's chores the day before, and hailed the Knight Bus.

As soon as Harry lifted his wand arm the ugly purple triple decker bus materialized with a bang and skid marks. Harry climbed on and gave a fake name to the old driver, he also noticed that it wasn't Stan Shunpike. After telling the driver he wanted to go to the leaky cauldron, the bus took off with another bang and more skid marks. Looking around, Harry noticed that there was no one else on the bus, confirming his suspicions that the bus was for mainly the old and destitute, those who couldn't apparate, floo or portkey. The trip to the Leaky Cauldron was fast, unnervingly so, and just as unpleasant as when Harry had done it the year before.

The wrinkled driver nearly physically kicked Harry out of the bus when they arrived at the small pub. Getting his bearings Harry looked around him at the muggles going about their daily lives, he grinned at the idea that no one knew him here, he was just another thirteen year old kid. His grin turned into a grimace as he realized that he wasn't able to hide his scar better than with a simple football cap, and it did not help much when he did not want to be recognized. Taking a deep breath Harry walked into the pub before him with determination.

The Leaky Cauldron hadn't changed much since the previous year, it still had warn wood on the floor, the chairs still looked beaten and abused, and Tom still made it seem like the homiest place in London. Harry took a seat in the corner, watching the people eat and drink, as he waited for someone to go out the back and tap the bricks. He didn't have to wait long as a tall witch came out of the floo and straight to the back of the pub. Wasting no time Harry walked behind her at a respectable distance, and when she tapped the bricks Harry memorized the pattern.

The sight of Diagon Alley was still mesmerizing even if he'd stayed here for weeks last year. The side of the street was lined with shops with all kinds of products, from the Magical Menagerie to the Quality Quiddich Supplies store, there was something for everyone. But today Harry was determined to get to the imposing building at the end of the long street, Gringott's bank. Setting a brisk pace Harry glanced around him hoping to see anyone who would know him before they saw him. A minute later Harry was standing on the front steps of the building without anyone having recognized him, although he did see some people he recognized.

The marble columns of Gringotts seemed more imposing now that Harry knew more about the beings that inhabited the halls and caverns. Witches and Wizards lined up in queues to make transactions with the short beings. Harry moved to one of the queues and took in the appearance of the short tellers, they didn't seem to have a healthy head of hair among them, and their skin seemed slightly translucent, which Harry wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't looking closely. The teller's hands had long fingers, each digit was nearly half as long as their forearm, with the webbing stretching much farther than it did on a Humans hand. The Wizard in front of Harry was shaking slightly as he moved to speak to the teller that just opened, Harry couldn't make out what he was saying but his tone was fearful. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately Harry was called to an available teller.

"Speak Human, I have not got all day." The goblin's voice was deep and gravelly, it seemed to rake on Harry's nerves.

"Sir, my Godfather said that I should get the Goblins to examine my scar thoroughly, he said he did not think it was safe to have soul-based magic possibly lingering on my forehead." Harry spoke loudly enough to be heard, but too quietly to be overheard.

The goblin peered down at Harry from his stand, and Harry lifted his hat, revealing his scar to the goblin. "My godfather wanted to get an unbiased third party's opinion. He doubted that the healers of my people would be unbiased, or even skilled enough to detect the magic of the scar."

The goblin snorted in derision, to what, Harry wasn't sure. "Very well, go sit in the waiting area, I will have a specialist brought up shortly." Considering the way the goblin grinned, Harry didn't think that the wait would be short at all.

Three hours, and one complete shift change, later a small human girl walked up to Harry and beckoned for him to come follow her. After confirmatory glance to the goblins on duty, Harry stood to follow the child. She walked at a very fast pace for her slight frame, her short hair waving slightly against the air. She seemed slightly malnourished, Harry could only tell from his own experience. The girl weaved through the corridors with practiced ease, stopping only to allow seemingly high-ranked goblins to pass, or in fear of the goblin warriors, carrying their swords and pikes. The warriors saw the girl and glared at her, as if her very existence was an insult to all of goblinkind. She simply hung her head. Harry began to wonder if the girl might be the specialist; it made sense that if Aunt Petunia hated Lily because of jealousy that maybe the girl was a human prodigy, hated by those with less skill.

Harry's thoughts were proven unfounded as the girl stopped in front of a door labeled 'Nullam nedum cubiculum'. The girl motioned for Harry to enter, and left without a word.

"Mr. Potter, I am Fanghorn, I hear you want your scar analyzed?" Harry squashed the urge to run as the goblin's voice grated on his ears. The goblin was average height, and wearing some sort of robe, it seemed like sackcloth or woven twine. Upon its head was a circlet of silver with some sort of dull blue stone set in it, and something like glasses lenses were attached to it, they were blue like sapphire, but instead of reflecting light and producing a luster the lenses were dull. The goblin's nose was very prominent, as long as his head was wide, with a large wart on its side.

"Yes, Mr. Fanghorn, my godfather wanted it checked out, he believes it to be soul magic, and is concerned."

"Ah, yes, how is Lord Black these days? Are the sunbeams and waves treating him well?" Harry was taken aback, how did the goblin know where Sirius was? The only reason Harry knew he was somewhere tropical was the brightly feathered bird that delivered the first letter. Harry figured the goblins probably knew the same way.

"I am unsure Mr. Fanghorn, we have not gotten to speak much. Unfortunately it was always a very serious conversation. All I know is that he is alive."

"Yes, it would be most unfortunate if he died, the things he will do to the ministry will most likely be very entertaining." Fanghorn gave a throaty chuckle and started to stare more intently at Harry. "Now Mr. Potter, if you would please remove all enchantments from your person this will be over faster and I can go home."

Harry began to change his hair color back, and remove the charms on his clothes that made them more presentable. Upon seeing the state of his wardrobe Fanghorn sneered mockingly.

"Now, boy, lay on the floor naked. I need to be able to examine all of you."

Harry was repulsed by the goblin, but had come too far to back out now. As he took his shirt off and revealed his scars Fanghorn's sneer diminished, if only slightly. Harry took off his trainers and pants, hesitating with his underwear before it also joined the clothing pile in the corner. The stone was cold on Harry's bare feet but under the watchful gaze of Fanghorn he lay on his back, spread eagle before the repulsive goblin.

Fanghorn began to speak in gobbledegook, the guttural sounds scraping against Harry's magic. It was oppressive and seemed to promise pain and suffering, slavery and condemnation. Harry's skin writhed, and his scar began to burn, the pain quickly spread from his scar down his back, to his feet, and up the front. The goblin's magic took shape, a green pillar of dust rose before Fanghorn, the minute particles attacked and destroyed Harry's glasses, bored into his eyes and burned with an unholy blaze inside his mind. The goblin continued to chant as the dust cloud encompassed all of Harry's prone form, raising him a meter in the air, and turning him around. Harry tried to claw at his eyes but his hands did not respond to his brain, he tried to scream but his throat made not a sound. Slowly, gradually, the dust settled, and the magical light of the room was extinguished. The only source of light was the blue lenses in front of Fanghorn's eyes. Harry tried to ask Fanghorn what the results were, but found himself slipping farther and farther into unconsciousness.

* * *

Harry awoke with a splitting headache, and his eyes themselves seemed to be alight. He tried to move his arm but found it restrained, along with the rest of his body.

"What happened?"

The deep guttural voice of a goblin responded him, "During your examination Chief Examiner Fanghorn found a piece of a soul that would be easily missed, over the last half hour we have extracted it, done battle with it, and killed it." The goblin walked into Harry's line of view, he was wearing a white robe that seemed to be the standard of both races for a healer. "You will be charged two hundred thousand galleons for the procedure and the lives that were lost fighting the wraith. Also, when the Examination Dust entered your eyes it unblocked large amounts of ocular magic that was wreaking havoc with your ability to see, the fee for this was deducted from your account and added to the two hundred thousand galleons. Your clothing is by the door, Salva will take you to the foyer." With that the goblin unlocked the restraints around Harry's body and left the room.

Harry wasted no time in getting dressed, making sure his wand was ok, and getting out of the bank. As it turned out, the little girl that Harry followed to Fanghorn's examination room was none other than Salva, and no matter how much he tried Harry couldn't get her to speak. Harry was deposited in front of the foyer by Salva who left quickly, Harry, having replaced the charms on his hair, left to rejoin the wizarding world of Diagon Alley.

* * *

The sun had set and the moon had risen high by the time that Harry stepped off the Knight Bus. As soon as Harry opened the door to his family's house he noticed that the telly was still on, and the clock read midnight. Harry quietly cast a silencing spell and made his way up the stairs, careful not to step on the creaky boards, but it was not meant to be. Harry had not even made it to the top landing when Dudley came around the corner and saw him halfway up the flight of stairs.

"DAD! MUM! HARRY'S HOME!" The pig yelled, his voice cracking as he saw the wand in Harry's hand and the blue glow around his feet. "HE IS USING MAGIC!"

'_Great, thanks Dud, you're a big help here…'_

Vernon bolted upright from his very large chair, bringing his incredible girth to bear on Harry. The low light from the streetlamps illuminating his crimson face, and his eyes were alight with fury. "WH-WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, BOY?!"

Harry had never seen his uncle so angry. Spittle went flying from the mammoth of a man's lips as he waved a pistol in the air. '_Where did he get a pistol?' _Deciding that honesty was the best answer Harry took a deep breath and responded slowly, "I went to a healer to get my scar looked at, my Godfather thought it might be cursed."

Petunia's hand flew to her mouth as she remembered who gave Harry the scar. "It, you mean, it had _his_ magic in it?"

Vernon's temper did not abate at the reference to Voldemort, as far as he was concerned Harry was completely in the wrong. "Boy, today you showed that you do not value this house, so I want you to take your things," Vernon pointed at the cupboard under the stairs. "And leave. Never return, this is no longer your home."

Harry was shocked to the core, and as he heard Vernon tell him never to return the teen felt the magic of the wards die, so too did Petunia.

"What was that? What did you do to our house?"

"Those were the wards," Harry was barely able to speak. "They died when Vernon said this wasn't my home. Those wards protected you as much as they did me, as long as you remain here Voldemort will target you. I recommend you flee the country, go to America, go to Australia, I don't care where but leave this house."

"But you'll tell them that you don't care, right? They'll leave us alone?" Dudley looked like he just saw Filch in his underpants.

"I would, if it would matter, or if they would ask. Dudley, you're dealing with terrorists, when they find out I didn't like it here, they'll kill you anyway. These people are not street thugs, they murder muggles for fun."

"Can't you get them to replace those wards? I don't want to move." Petunia was whimpering, she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"No, the wards are gone, Vernon saw to that." Vernon, for his part looked pleased that something magical was gone from his house. "There is no way to effectively ward a muggles' house, there needs to be some sort of magical trace for the wards to pick up on. At this house, that was me, and with the kinds of wards that were on the property, no more can be placed here for five years, at least. If you want to live, you'll have to do it without me. You will move in one direction, I'll move in another. Now, since Voldemort has not risen yet, I'm going to wait until tomorrow to leave. I'll be up and gone by eight, I recommend you leave as soon as possible."

Vernon seemed very happy, Dudley looked apprehensive, and Petunia looked determined. The horse-faced woman began barking orders to her family on how to pack and where to find boxes.

Harry walked to the bedroom he called his, took off the hat he was still wearing, removed the hair color changing charm, and began to place his few belongings in his chest. _'What do I do now? Everything is happening too fast for me to be able to send a letter to Sirius, where do I go?'_


	2. Chapter 2

Harry awoke at seven thirty, according to his alarm clock, the events of the previous night still ringing in his head. He didn't know where to go, and he didn't know what to do. Hedwig had gone hunting a few days before, and not returned. Harry wasn't worried, Hedwig would often leave for several days when Harry was at the Dursleys. Harry called out to his feathered friend with his magic, sending it out in a pulse to attract the wayward bird.

After an hour of walking around Little Whingning, Harry was quite sure he never wanted to be there again. In every window he saw people point and whisper, they saw Harry Potter, a leech and a blight on the good family of Vernon Dursley. Harry thought about going to the Weasleys, but he needed a plan. Sirius's letter was an ever present reminder to plan and contemplate. Somewhere, out in the tropics most likely, Sirius was enjoying his freedom.

Suddenly an idea formed in Harry's mind, it took root in an instant, and refused to budge. Harry was now free and able to cast magic, for all intents and purposes he was an adult. Quickly, Harry whistled for Hedwig to come, and he wrote a short note to Sirius, asking him to send a portkey to wherever the man was, Harry then cast a spell on Hedwig that would allow her to travel much faster for a short amount of time.

* * *

Several hours later, and hundreds of miles away, Hedwig's beautiful white plumage was seen by Sirius.

"Oi! Moony! Harry wrote again!" Not receiving a response from the werewolf Sirius looked around the Isle of Black, "Where are you?"

No sooner than he spoke, Remus dropped down from above him, landing less than a foot behind the most wanted man in Europe. "Boo." Sirius jumped no less than a foot in the air, his heart racing.

"Good god Moony, I just got out of Azkaban, do you have to do that?"

"Yes." Remus smirked as he raised an arm for Hedwig to land on. "What have you got for us girl?"

Sirius took the letter from around Hedwig's leg and read it aloud.

_Padfoot, send me a portkey. Vernon killed the wards around my house, but now I guess I can live with you._

_Godson_

Sirius let out a bark of laughter as he reread the note. His face instantly morphed into a visage of fury as he realized what Vernon would need to do to break the wards around his house. Sirius swore loudly and extensively in French.

"Padfoot, I don't speak French. Why are you so angry?"

"Moony, for Vernon," Sirius spat the word like a curse. "To have broken the wards, he had to declare that Harry was not welcome in his house. He kicked Harry out." Sirius quickly pulled up every occulmency barrier he ever created in order to mask his rage. Not hearing Moony's own curses against the large man, Sirius strode to retrieve his wand from where it lay on the beach. Tapping a stone with a muttered _portus, _Sirius took hold of Hedwig and apparated to the alley that he glimpsed harry from nearly a year prior.

Hedwig gave a squawk of indignation as she experienced side-along apparaition for the first time. "I'm sorry girl, but I needed to get both of us here quickly. Now, I'm going to transform, just fly low enough for me to see you, and I'll run as Padfoot."

The snowy owl hooted once then took off in the general direction of London.

* * *

Harry was enjoying a nice dinner in a small pizza shop a couple miles out of Little Whinging, when a large black dog put its' paws on the window, and gave a bark so deep that the glass shook. Smiling, Harry walked out to meet his godfather.

After they had turned into a dark alley Sirius transformed back into his aristocratic self and gave Harry a firm hug. "Harry, we're going to portkey, I know you read about them in the grimoire but that won't be enough to be expecting it." Sirius turned his head to address Hedwig, "I'm sorry about apparating you girl, do you want to portkey or fly back to the Isle?" Needing no motivation Hedwig took to the sky and flew south. "That's a smart bird. Alright Harry, hold on tight. You're going to feel a jerking sensation behind your navel, when you're flying through the air keep your knees bent and your center of gravity low." Sirius smirked, "Just pretend you're on a broom, or a woman." As Harry's face displayed outrage Sirius sent a jolt of magic at the pebble he made into a portkey, and Britain's most wanted left with The-Boy-Who-Lived hugging him.

Sirius laughed as Harry went sprawling face first into the sand of the Isle of Black.

"I told you, bend your knees."

"Yeah, maybe if you would have given me more warning…"

"It's hardest the first time. Now that you've gotten that under your belt, how about I give you the grand tour?"

Harry looked around himself for the first time. He was standing in a secluded cove, with white sand and crystal clear water. There were several pelicans flying above that would dive into the deeper water and come up with fish in their beaks. To his right and left rose a sheer cliff wall going up about nine meters.

Sirius stood back with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Harry with a critical eye. At thirteen and doing the magic deepening practices Harry should have had much more muscle than he did. The boy's clothes were maddeningly large, he might as well have been swimming, and tied around his waist was a piece of thin, frayed rope used as a belt. As Harry turned around the wind ruffled his hair, revealing his scar, gone was the ugly red flesh, instead it was a narrow piece of silvery skin.

"Harry, what happened to your scar?"

"The goblins checked it out, and it somehow attacked them, I don't know the specifics but four goblin warriors died." Harry went to push up his glasses before he realized he didn't have any. "They did something, and some sort of green magic went into my eyes. It hurt as much as basilisk venom, but cured my eyes. Apparently there was some sort of ocular magical buildup… Whatever that means."

"It means your eyes contained magic, some people can use focusing runes to see magical auras. It's a really useful skill for Curse Breakers and Aurors, among others. I used to have an enchanted piece of stone just over my shoulder blade that allowed me to read the magic in wards, and prevented people from using things like Malfeasance or Necromancy on me. It's called a gram, your dad and I added the part about seeing auras." Sirius's eyes took on a forlorn expression as he recalled building the grams with James.

"What is Malfeasance?"

"It's a form of combat magic, think of a voodoo doll, the ones where if you stab them then the person will feel the pain. Those dolls are called mommets, the only defense against Malfeasence is either a gram or actively guarding against it with your own magic. I've never felt the effects of it myself, and never wanted to, so I made a gram."

"Can you make me one?" Harry's eyes were pleading, looking rather scared.

"No, you have to make it for yourself, my magic would interfere with the process. A properly made gram will only work for the person who makes it. Besides, few people these days know how to preform Sympathy. Now, how about that tour?"

Harry nodded eagerly, his mind obviously processing the idea of a gram.

"As much as I love answering your questions right now, we do have all summer."

Sirius showed him around the Island, it was larger than Harry expected and it had a large clearing for vegetables and many fruit trees. The parts of the island that were not manicured lawn (Harry wondered what charms kept it so well trimmed) or beach were dense rainforest. Sirius promised that when Harry mastered his animagus the two of them would practice hunting and navigating in the forest.

"The jungle is densely magical, I don't know what all lives in there but it's much larger than it looks."

As they were walking around, talking, Harry's stomach growled loudly. Harry stared at the offending region in surprise. "I just ate!"

"How much did you eat pup?"

"Two slices of pizza," Harry answered as he realized he never really got full at the diner.

"Is that it? Pup, you're growing magically and physically. The magic exercises you're doing at night make your appetite go through the roof, when James and I did them we would eat enough for five people."

"Really?" Harry's eyes were downcast, he felt like he failed.

Sirius knelt in front of his godson, and raised the boy's chin with a finger. "Harry, this was my fault, and the Dursleys'. I should have told you that you need to eat more, and they should have had enough sense to feed Heir Potter." Sirius's eyes flashed dangerously. "Harry, have you been told about the responsibilities that you will face when your magic is fully matured?"

"No, why?"

"Pup, when you're mature you will have to take up your seat on the Wizengamot. That means that you will be a Noble Lord and a Hogwarts student at the same time, without any form of guidance you could have destroyed our society from the inside." Sirius raised a hand to prevent any outbursts from Harry. "There was no way that you could know, Petunia and Vernon didn't believe James and me when we told them that we were Lords. Dumbledore probably didn't want you to feel needlessly burdened, which is bull. Arthur and Molly, bless them, are just trying to look after you like one of their own. Unfortunately you are not a member of their family, nor will you ever be. The fact is that you are Heir Potter, and if I don't produce an Heir or adopt a son, you'll become Lord Black as well. Many would jump at the idea to control that much power, but it corrupts." Sirius's eye's sparkled with mirth. "And you don't seem like the kind of guy to want two wives."

Harry's jaw dropped, and he took a half step back. "Two? Two wives? Why would I have two wives?"

"One to carry the name of Black, one to carry the name of Potter, I've made you my heir until something else happens. That means that if you marry one woman, your magic would force you to marry another. I don't know how or why it does that, but it does." Sirius adopted a shit-eating grin "So, who are the prettiest girls in Hogwarts? And how do their names sound with Potter, and Black after them?"

Harry took in Sirius's crouched form, and tackled him. As they rolled on the ground Sirius transformed, and Padfoot tackled Harry; and proceeded to slobber all over the young noble.

* * *

Sirius and Harry were standing in the kitchen of the deceptively large house on the island, looking for a meal suitable for their needs.

"Remus must have gone to get some food, we ate the last of it for lunch. I wouldn't eat anything here, that's for sure."

Although he was used to eating small portions of bad food Harry had to agree. The food choices amounted to ancient cold soup, nearly rotten meat, or the island's fruit; which Sirius was nervous to eat, the island was so heavily warded that the magic could have adversely affected the fruit trees.

"Sirius, I have an idea, can House Elves get through the wards?"

"The Black family ones can, most likely the Potter ones as well, since you're here. Why? Do you know any?"

"Two years ago I freed the Malfoy house elf, Dobby. He was nearly worshiping me, so I might be able to get us some food."

"Do it, just call his name. It also wouldn't hurt to put magic behind your words."

Harry looked around the kitchen and called to Dobby, crossing his fingers. "Dobby!"

Suddenly Dobby appeared with a soft 'pop' and nearly tackled Harry's legs. "Harry Potter sir called Dobby! Dobby knew Harry Potter sir would call him!"

Sirius chuckled while Harry's face started to turn red. "D-Dobby, could you do me a favor?"

Dobby's eyes started to tear up as he wailed, "Anything! If Dobby is capable Dobby will do it!"

"Ok, this is Sirius Black, my godfather, and we need some food to eat. Do you think you could get something for us?"

"Oh yes Harry Potter Sir! Dobby is being working in the Hogwarts kitchens, we house elves always prepare enough for more that are eating! Dobby will go get some of the food!"

Before Dobby could pop away, Sirius stopped him. "Dobby, could you make sure no one knows you're getting the food for us? Just be sneaky please."

"Of course Sirius Black Sir! Dobby can be sneaky!" Dobby disappeared with a soft 'pop' the same way he arrived.

"Why does Dobby have to be sneaky? It's not like Dumbledore is going to be mad at me for speaking to my godfather."

Sirius shook his head slowly, "The thing is, Dumbledore doesn't think I'm in any condition to raise you. It honestly doesn't even seem like he wants me near you period, most likely he's still concerned for my sanity." He gave a throaty chuckle. "Maybe James and Remus made one too many insanity cracks in Hogwarts."

An hour later Sirius and Harry were stuffed to the brim with the best of Hogwarts cuisine, courtesy of Dobby. The two had been talking about Harry's adventures through Hogwarts, from the Philosopher's Stone to the Dementors right before freeing Sirius. Some portions Sirius gasped in shock, while at others he would double over laughing. "Pup, in your first three years you've outdone all the Marauders, I can't wait to see what the next four have in store."

"Well, according to you, I might be in the Triwizard Tournament this year."

"Merlin, I hope not pup. The reason it was disbanded was that too many people died in the gods forsaken tournament, it uses an ancient gladiatorial cup to determine the contestants. That means that it'll choose the best show, not the most skilled. It's an honest mistake really, the Black family has a Goblet of Fire that will choose the best suited for whatever competition it was; whereas the other one, I don't know who owns it, will choose for the show. I think the judges meant to use the one from my family but accidentally got the other one. Either way, it's too late to change anything. The commands must be entered into the Goblets a year in advance, things like rules of competition and other such things are set in stone but minor adjustments can be made with a confundus or other charm like it. That made it so that if one gladiator or Olympian athlete, what my family's cup was used for, got sick it could be changed at the last minute. My guess is that if anything happens, it will be then."

"Sirius, why do you think I'll be in the Tournament? I think so too, honestly, but it's a gut feeling. Why do you think I am?"

"Pup, planning for a prank is a lot like planning for a war. You have to keep the guards out, the authorities distracted, and the path clear of obstacles. Dumbledore told me the prophecy about the servant of the Dark Lord escaping, if Voldemort has indeed come back, even in part, the Tournament will keep any suspicious eyes away from his rebirth. There was a prophecy made about you that probably said something along the lines of you being the one to kill the Darkest of Wankers, because he is ridiculously intent on killing you. With this event he will be in a perfect position to do it, and make it look like an accident." A dark smile made its way onto Sirius's face. "That's how Moony would get away with so many pranks; he made it look like it was an accident, or someone else. Wormtail, would stutter and look weak, which made him able to avoid detection. No one suspected when Peter pulled a prank, he was almost never caught."

"But, I thought McGonagall said that he wasn't very skilled…"

"She probably meant in comparison, honestly everyone within a couple of years of us were rather amazing. From Bellatrix to Regulus, those years were chock full of amazing witches and wizards. Peter was average and that made him look unskilled or weak in comparison to all of his classmates."

"No kidding Padfoot, I was expecting to teach people at our level of skill when I was the DADA professor, no such luck. My best students were Harry, a few Slytherins, and one very skilled Gryffindor." Remus spoke up, neither Harry nor Sirius had known he was there. "If only there were more pranksters, right now it's pathetic. We gave everyone a reason to be skilled. If someone couldn't figure out a way to remove the color changing charms we put on their hair, their hair would stay that way forever."

Harry was sure that one year wasn't good enough to judge the Weasley twins, they were excellent pranksters. "What about Fred and George? They are really good at what they do."

"No, not really, their pranks don't extend much beyond putting a dungbomb in someone's bag, or setting off a firecracker. What I'm talking about is animating entire lines of armour suits to waltz with specific people, or mixing their studies to make interesting results. James and Lily worked together in their sixth year to prank the current defense teacher. Lily made a potion that would trigger a charm on the defense teacher's robes when he would sweat, the charm would then set off James's transfiguration effect turning the man's ears into that of a donkey and give him the tail of one too. Keep in mind that this guy was a former Auror."

"That's amazing! But why did they do that?"

"The professor told Lily that she had an amazing ass. Lily was not amused to have a forty year old man flirting with her, so she enlisted James's help."

Sirius felt the need to interject, "When it was all done, Lily said, out loud 'While I may have an amazing ass, you are nothing but a baying jackass.' For three days the professor had to write what he wanted to say with an air scribe. Every time he tried to talk the words came out as the bay of a donkey. To this day I'm not sure how she changed the voice patterns. Normally I would say it was a potion, that makes it simple, but a second potion would have interfered with the first one."

"Why would my mom ask my dad for help? I thought she hated him until seventh year."

"Not really, once she stopped hanging around Snape in fifth year she was able to see the real James. Before then all she saw was a guy who picked on one of her only friends. It probably didn't help that he asked her out once a month, at the very least."

Remus snorted the juice he was drinking. "Once a month? Prongs would ask Lily out once twice a week every week for two years."

"Sure, before fifth year, but with the ministry under attack like it was he was more concerned for our nation. Besides, James was always concerned for his Dad." Sirius turned to Harry. "Charlus was a very high ranking member of the Wizengamot, and highly supportive of James pursuing Lily. That made many purebloods, the Blacks specifically, furious."

"Why the Blacks in particular?"

"My uncle had three daughters, Bellatrix, a psychopath, Andromeda, a genuinely nice person; and Narcissa, a survivalist. Uncle Cygnus wanted James to marry either Andromeda or Narcissa, but Charulus was against the idea when he heard about James and Lily."

"That's it? It doesn't really seem like Cygnus had a reason to hate my grandfather."

"Well, I think that Cygnus and Charulus were in the negotiaitons already, which would give my uncle reason to be upset. However the man took it way out of proportion and he began to loathe your grandfather."

Remus looked at his watch and sighed. "As much as I would love to stay up all night talking, I have a job to get to in the morning. Goodnight Harry, Padfoot."

"'Night Moony."

"Goodnight Professor."

Remus chuckled. "Call me Remus or Moony, I'm your uncle first and your ex-professor second, maybe even third." With those words and a small wave, Remus departed to an upstairs room.

"Sirius? Why do you think those three Slytherins are a good choice to reach out to?"

Sirius chuckled. "Last year at Hogwarts, I didn't make nearly as many attempts to kill Peter as I could have. I spent most of my time as Padfoot on the grounds, and I listened to the conversations of many of your classmates."

"I learned a lot about the Slytherin political structure these days, and everything I put in the letter. I also know things about the school, like the Harry Potter fan club is thirteen members strong."

Harry's face burned crimson, he had no idea he had a fan club.

"Don't worry Pup." Sirius's eyes shone with glee. "It's nowhere near my fan club's size!"

Sirius and Harry laughed and talked for hours, Sirius told the boy about his parents, and Harry told the convict about his friends.

* * *

Late the next morning Sirius awoke with a smile on his face. Since breaking out of Azkaban he had precious few things to be happy about, and an overabundance of things to be depressed or furious about. Sirius set about his morning routine with a slight deviation from the norm, he was humming. While in Hogwarts Sirius would almost always go about his morning routine humming a light tune, the Marauders took it as Sirius's normalcy check. If he was humming, his life was ok, if he wasn't humming something was up. The morning after Harry had arrived from Surrey was the first that Sirius hummed in thirteen years

Sirius made his way across the house to the kitchen, and not once did his humming cease. Sitting on the small breakfast table in the kitchen were two plates of food, both piled high with all assortments of breakfast foods. In the middle of the weathered wooden table was a note from Remus.

_Padfoot and Prongsson_

_I didn't want to wake you, I'm sure you've slept in late. I got up this morning and Dobby was here, he got us breakfast. Since I don't know what Harry likes and Padfoot has some unusual tastes I just told the little elf to get a bit of everything. I've put it under warming charms, if you sleep longer than the charms hold, you don't deserve breakfast._

_Moony_

Sirius chuckled at the note, and sat down to eat his food.

Harry woke up slowly, his eyelids were tinted a light red from sunlight. Moving his head and opening his eyes Harry looked around his spacious room. The walls were done in a light cream, and the floor was a light hardwood. The bedroom alone was twice the size the Dursley's sitting room. A large four poster bed dominated one wall, and a moderately sized sitting area took up the opposite side of the room. Off against a wall stood a wardrobe large enough to fit every piece of clothing the Dursley's had ever owned.

Harry preformed his morning ritual quickly, and went to eat breakfast.

"Hey pup, I wasn't sure when you would get up so I started eating. Dobby brought some food from Hogwarts again, and Moony put it under warming charms." Sirius looked good in the morning light, his skin had lost the grey pallor that it gained in thirteen years of Azkaban. While the wanted fugitive was nowhere near peak physical condition, he was looking much better than he had when Harry watched him ride away on Buckbeak. "Hey, what do you say we send Hedwig out to get some books? I don't know if you intend to take Arithmancy or Runes, but if you do we'll need the textbooks. I think we should also get a few potions books, your Mum was a natural at potions and you seem to have about the same magical skillset. With you and me working together we could make some restorative draughts, appetite replenishers, and general nutrition potions. What do you say about that?"

"It sounds good, and I do want to take those classes, but I was wondering about Care for Magical creatures. I like the idea of the class, but aside from the hippogriffs on Hagrid's first lesson I haven't really seen anything I'm interested in."

"Hmm, I understand that. When I was on the grounds I watched several of your classes, and I can tell you Hagrid is following the general coursework. And yes it is boring, you won't find many interesting creatures until your Newt level. What I recommend is ask Hagrid if he will give you any private lessons, that way you can spend time with him while not doing any essays."

"Yeah, I think I'll do that. Thanks, and I don't think that I got my mum's skill with potions. It's always so difficult to brew."

Sirius looked thoughtful. "Pup, why do you cut a shrinkhead bean in thirds instead of flattening it?"

Harry dug in his memory. "I don't know."

"Ok, why do I need to make a turn counterclockwise after so many clockwise?"

"I don't know."

Sirius chuckled mirthlessly. "Your problem doesn't lie in being unable to brew, it is poor teaching practices. Snape, for all his faults, is a potions genius. He either doesn't understand someone's incapability to understand certain practices, or he deliberately stunts student's growth."

"Why would he stunt a student's growth in potions?"

"Either because he's a greasy git, or because the Auror corps will only take people who pass their potions newts. Dumbledore trusts him but I don't."

"Dumbledore says that Snape owed my dad for saving his life."

"Yes, technically he owes your dad a life debt, but unfortunately the only reason he was in that situation was because of me. Remus was in the middle of a transformation, and I told Snape how to get to him. Being too curious for his own damn good the idiot ran into the tunnel to the shack. He got the door to the shack open; saw Moony, and James pulled him away before he could get bitten. I felt horrible for a couple hours, then James looked me in the eye and told me to check for mind charms. He wanted to make sure that I was the one who told Snape before he read me the riot act. Turns out I had been 'persuaded' to tell Snape about the tunnel. That's when I took the time to raise my basic understanding of Occulmency to a master's level."

"So, did he owe my dad a life debt?"

"Yes, I think so. But life debts are tricky things, if you know you saved someone's life, and they know you saved it, there is a debt. Snape hated your Father's guts, and would think the worst of him. He might be able to convince himself that James only saved him to protect Moony and me. Thereby meaning he doesn't owe your father, or you, in any regard. Like I said, they're tricky things."

Sirius and Harry ate in silence for several minutes, Sirius was lost in memories and Harry was in thinking about life debts, and other forms of crazy magic. "Padfoot, can you teach me to be an Animagus this summer?"

"Sure pup, I can try. It took James and me three years to do it, but I'm pretty sure we created a new method of preforming the shift, and it might even be something different."

"Different?"

"Possibly, have you ever heard of Shapeshifters?" Harry shook his head no. "They're like Animagi, but seem to have a higher tendency to be magical creatures. I think we may have stumbled upon the method they use, it's also less painful than the other two methods."

"How is it done?"

"In detail it uses Ancient Egyptian runes of changing combined with Arithmatic principles of vectors and parabola. The angles the runes intercept each other create a self-sustaining field of energy directly beneath the surface of your magic. This makes your magic react to the primal instincts that drive your core being, and forces those instincts to the surface. When you are put in situations that require you to have your instincts up at a moment's notice, your magic may respond, activating the basic function of the runic circle. Thus transforming you into your animal form, it can be awkward to explain in crowds…"

Harry's eyes swam in his skull. He was digesting the information and trying to understand all of the terms. Certain things were hard to misunderstand but the majority of what his godfather said to him sounded like an entirely different language.

"Don't worry if you didn't catch all that, it is far beyond NEWT level work. Honestly if James and I had done it legally, we would have published our results. People that wanted to teach that method of becoming and Animagi would have to pay us for the right to use it. As it stands now though, I am most likely the only person in the world who knows how to do it." Sirius grinned and stood, his plate went soaring through the air with a wandless banishment charm as he beckoned Harry to follow outside.

* * *

"Padfoot, I know you have money, I mean you bought me the Firebolt… Could we maybe buy some clothes for me? I don't want to wear Dudley's cast offs." He and Sirius were laying on the beach.

"Harry, first of all, I have more money than I could ever need. Secondly, I have no son, I have no wife, and I have no other family that I want to inherit my money besides you. That means that if I were to keel over dead right now, you would own everything I do. You don't ever have to ask me if you can spend money on something vital like that. The only tricky part will be to actually do the shopping. I am a wanted man after all." Sirius put his hand to his chin, trying to think of a solution.

"We have two options, as far as I can see. We can get all of your sizes, like the width of your shoulders and length of arms, and get clothes tailored to fit perfectly. Or we can make a quick jaunt into a small town in rural Britain laden with enchantments out the wazoo. The first option would get you better fitting clothes with higher quality, but the second option would be a lot more fun." Sirius looked to Harry for his opinion.

"I think I like the sound of the first option better."

"Me too, while going out would be fun, it would not be practical. Not to mention I don't have any muscle tone, or a good tan. How would I seduce any beautiful ladies?" Sirius's grey eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Maybe with your quick wit and charming speech, but even then, you would need a few confundus charms." Harry grinned, his prior shyness forgotten.

"Why you dirty little back biter! I'll get you for that!" Harry had taken off running and Sirius had to transform in order to catch up to him. The two spent the rest of the day playing and laughing, outliving and outgrowing the abuse they had both suffered.

Sirius and Harry were walking back to the house leisurely while Sirius was explaining some of his and James's pranks. Suddenly Sirius reached out an arm and stopped Harry's movement.

"Hold up. Look at the threshold; do you see the mud tracks?" Sirius's tone was hushed and intense.

"Yes, why?"

"They go into the house. We have not gone in at all today, so it must be Remus." Sirius's eyes swam with a spark of insanity, and an ocean of mirth. "Silence your footsteps, and I'll disillusion you. Be prepared to take any opportunity to prank him."

Harry preformed the necessary charm on his feet, while he felt Sirius's cool magic wash over him and his body started to become transparent.

"Advance slowly, wand out, spells at the ready."

The pair advanced slowly, with Sirius in front, in a low crouch. As Sirius approached the sitting room door he shifted his ears into those of a dog. He held a fist up, clearly indicating for Harry to stop. After half a minute of listening, Sirius beckoned for Harry to continue moving. Nearing the kitchen Sirius heard the even, steady breathing of Remus. The black haired marauder looked back at Harry and motioned for him to move to Remus's right. Slowly and silently, a pitcher of water floated from behind Remus to be directly above him. Sirius quickly disillusioned it as Remus looked up. When Remus went back to preparing a bowl of cereal with painstaking precision, Sirius waited. Just as Remus started to pour the milk onto the dry cereal Sirius disillusioned himself. "You know, it's impolite to come to someone's house and not announce yourself."

Remus jumped nearly right out of his skin, and almost poured all the milk he had onto the counter. He opened his mouth to retort, and Sirius dumped the water on the startled werewolf.

Harry was howling with laughter right alongside Sirius, and Remus was just staring at his clothes. His amber eyes locked with Sirius's. "Mr. Padfoot, Mr. Moony would like to formally declare that this means war."

Sirius's eyes were shining with humor. "Mr. Padfoot recognizes Mr. Moony's declaration of war, and would like to extend the Son of Prongs an offer of alliance."

Harry, having caught on, replied just as quickly as his godfather had. "The Son of Prongs would like time to learn from the masters of war, and will aide both sides of this impending conflict. On the condition that Mr. Padfoot and Mr. Moony will not directly target the Son of Prongs, but any area of effect pranks are allowed." Had they known the boy better, Sirius and Remus would have been wary of his devilish smirk.

"Mr. Moony accepts this condition, for this war only."

"Mr. Padfoot also accepts this condition, but like his friend, only for this current war."

Harry smiled, having pulled off his ruse. He then cast an area of effect tickling hex at both Padfoot and Moony.

After a couple of minutes under Harry's hex and a minute of rest, Remus and Sirius realized they could not actually retaliate against Harry. To do so would break the promise they made to the boy. Sirius looked Remus in the eye and asked the question that was on both of their minds. "How is that kid in Gryffindor and not Slytherin?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey, Ch. 3 here, It's a short one, so I'm updating it faster than normal. Thank you all for following/favoriting this story, and for leaving reviews.**

* * *

Harry was in the Library, Sirius had said that it was much smaller than the other Black family librarys, but it was more than enough for Harry's needs. He was researching what it meant to be a noble Lord. What he read made his head spin. He would be responsible for every person living on the land he owned. In addition to himself, the residents of the land select representatives to appear in the Wizengamot court. That way there was a purpose for the nobility, and for the common masses.

The etiquette was a large portion of what Harry wanted to study, how was an heir supposed to act? How was an heir supposed to speak?

Harry approached Sirius about it, and the man thought for a moment.

"In Hogwarts, you are surrounded by dozens of heirs. I doubt that any of them put into practice what they're being taught. You don't need to worry about your public face there, it's mainly after Hogwarts that these things come into play. I'll teach you about the most important things this summer, but really this will take a back seat to what you will learn about Runes and Arithmacy."

"My biggest priority is to get you ready to handle the school year. The curse in the scar was damaging your ability to learn, so be prepared for Hogwarts to be easier than last year." Sirius dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "If you successfully complete the spell that you're covering in class, Professor McGonagall and Flitwick don't assign homework."

Harry smiled at the prospect of no homework for Transfiguration.

* * *

"Padfoot, Prongsson, we have a letter from the Headmaster."

"What does it say?" Sirius asked, while snacking on a scone. Dobby had taken to providing food for the three men every day, and there was always some sort of snack on the kitchen counter.

"I don't know, but I checked it for magical traces, there was a tracking charm." Remus shook his head slowly. "Was, being the operative word. Here, Harry you read it. It's the full moon tonight, so we're not going to do anything." The werewolf walked back to his room massaging his temples.

Sirius thought for a moment, his friend seemed to spark a memory. "I had nearly forgotten what he was like after a full moon."

"Read it out loud Harry, let's see what the great white whiskers has to say." Sirius grinned and chuckled at his own joke.

Harry opened the letter, taking it into his hands and unfolding it, taking care to not rip the carefully creased edges. "_Harry, it has come to my attention that the wards around your Aunt's house have failed." _Harry snorted_,_ "Why did it take him so long?" Sirius shrugged as Harry continued to read. "_I have informed the Weasleys to your plight, and Molly has been kind enough to offer you a place to stay until school starts this fall. This is obviously the best option for you, and I expect you will arrive shortly." _

Sirius stroked his chin, and the goatee he was growing. "That makes no sense. The wards here direct any mail to Remus, but I don't understand how he can say what is best for you. I am your Godfather, and he is simply the headmaster at your school."

Harry shrugged, he was too excited about what he read next. "_Arthur has asked that I pass on the message that he has gotten tickets to the Quiddich World Cup. You are of course invited, but I should not need to remind you to be careful. I hope that you will hasten to the Burrow, and that I will see you soon. With regards, Albus Dumbledore."_

"Quidditch World Cup? Pup, that's awesome, does it say when it is?"

"Yes, give me a second… It will be in late August, the Twenty-Second."

"In that case we have until, maybe the twenty first to get you up to snuff with the Arithmacy and Runes coursework. I would also recommend sending Hedwig out to talk to the Slytherins if you're going to."

"Yes, I will. Do you think we can perform the ritual to bring out my animagus before then?"

"Of course pup, we can also work on making a gram for you. If you still want one that is."

"Yeah I do! How hard is it to make?"

"It's NEWT level work at the very least, most likely higher. So yes, it's hard. But if you show it to Professors Babbling and Vector, it could most likely put you in those fourth year classes, maybe higher."

* * *

The day after he had gotten the letter from Dumbledore, Harry sat down at his desk to write a couple letters of his own. The first was a simple one, he told Dumbledore that he was safe and happy, and that he would love to go to the Weasleys and the World Cup. He also made sure to inform the headmaster that he would not be leaving his current location. Harry also made sure to write to Hermione and Ron, telling them about his summer.

The next letter that Harry wrote was much more difficult. He was attempting to forge a relationship with a boy he had never spoken to. At Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini was intimidating and rather feared, in no small part thanks to his mother. As a Gryffindor, Harry had no common ground to approach the dark-skinned boy. However, as someone who the hat wanted in Slytherin, Harry started to think with a bit of cunning, and manipulation.

_Blaise Zabini_

_Zabini, I am Harry Potter, we have never spoken but you certainly know who I am, and I know who you are. However I was given information at the end of last year that made me realize I very much need to expand my circle of friends, so that's what this is. I am not trying to force your hand, nor am I going to try to change who you are, I simply need more allies. _

_I am sure that you heard that Sirius Black had been captured at the end of last year, and that he escaped. I am telling you in confidence that I broke Sirius out of the tower in which he was being held. Sirius is as innocent of the murder of Peter Pettigrew as your mother is of the murder of Anthony Kingsdale. If possible, I would like to open a channel of communication in order to know if we could work together to take down Voldemort. As it stands currently I would be woefully unprepared to fight Voldemort, but with the help of the house of the cunning, I might be able to stand against the madman. I do in fact have reason to believe that Voldemort will rise, possibly even this year._

_If you do not wish to send a letter back with Hedwig, any you send would not reach me, you can, however send it to Remus Lupin. He will ensure that I get it._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry._

Harry wrote, and rewrote the letter no less than a dozen times. He brushed off some vocabulary, and made an effort to be what one would expect of Heir Potter.

* * *

Blaise Zabini was a tall, good looking Italian boy. Standing at above average height, with dark hazel eyes, and well cut black hair, he looked every part the Slytherin that he was. He sat on the edge of his bed which was unusually ordinary for the amount of money at his disposal. In his room were two owl perches, one for his owl, Gilgamesh, and one for visiting owls. Most days the second perch was empty, but sitting on it was a beautiful snowy owl, Harry Potter's owl. Blaise ran a hand through his hair, a habit that made his mother smile ever so slightly, and reread the letter he had received from Gryffindor's golden boy. Blaise weighed the contents of the letter in his mind, and they came out well, but the Slytherin was hesitant to just strike up a 'channel of communication' as Harry had put it.

Blaise walked out onto the wraparound deck that encircled the Venetian townhouse he and his mother lived in over the summer, the letter held firmly in his hand. Isabella Zabini sat elegantly, very few things she did weren't elegant. Her long, beautiful legs crossed in front of her, and her dark brown hair framed her face perfectly. She was reading the Daily Prophet, and was quite a ways into the newspaper, with a small, private smile on her face. There was a cup of tea sitting to her right, its' steam was still rising, showing she had not forgotten it once again amidst one of her long jaunts down memory lane. Blaise rarely saw his mother smile. Too few things had gone right in her life, so when she did, he was reluctant to say anything to disrupt her peace. Most of the time that she smiled Isabella was remembering her time at Hogwarts, Blaise knew that she was in love when she was there, and that his father ripped her from whoever the man was. Blaise never asked who had stolen his mother's heart, he allowed her to simply think of him, sometimes for hours.

A small breeze blew from behind Isabella, causing her to look up, and see Blaise standing there with his letter. "Blaise, is something wrong?"

"No, mama, I'm simply confused." Blaise handed his mother the letter, and watched as she read the rather short note. The look on her face changed quickly while reading, it started out cautious, quickly became confused, and finally, rapidly, settled into a dazzling smile. Blaise had seen the smile before, but never on his mother. The smile that would light up people's eyes, he saw it in the Hufflepuffs that he had class with, and some of the Ravenclaws. Seeing the smile, Blaise knew he would be spending time with Harry, somehow the Golden Boy had brought pure joy back into his mother's life, if only for an instant. That is all the time that Isabella allowed herself to smile, a single instant.

"Blaise, write him back, tell him that you would love to communicate." Blaise would have thought his eyes deceived him, had he not been so certain. His mother's eyes pleaded with him. "Ask for any information about Sirius, anything at all, I don't care what."

Blaise flicked his eyes over to the Daily Prophet, and it all made sense. This summer his mother had been happier, lighter on her feet, and the only thing on that particular page of the prophet was the news that Sirius Black had not yet been captured. Blaise nodded to his mother, his brain trying to catch up with him, Sirius Black was innocent, and Blaise's mother was in love with the fugitive.

Blaise quickly found a piece of parchment, and a quill. He told Hedwig to stay, and allow him to write to Harry.

_Harry Potter_

_Your letter was certainly a surprise, though not an unwelcome one. While I was surprised by the simple arrival of your letter, I was more surprised about its contents. It was quite cunning of you to relate Sirius to my mother the way you did, but I would like to know why you mention Anthony in particular. Most people agree that of all of my step-fathers, he was the most likely to die anyway._

_As a Slytherin, I must commend you on reaching out to me in particular. I believe that if you say You-Know-Who is coming back, he most likely is, and I do not want that. I personally want several members of his group dead and buried. I am more than willing to help you to reach that goal. If I am not very much mistaken, you are most likely living with your godfather this summer, and he gave you the idea to reach out to me. I welcome the idea of opening a 'channel of communication', as you put it. If you would like, I could provide you with a ticket to the World Cup, it would give us a chance to talk, and you would not be required to stay with me at all._

_I must ask, seeing as he was in Azkaban for over a decade, and is innocent, how is Lord Black? If it would be required, I could send professional grade healing potions to Professor Lupin for you._

_Sincerely,_

_Blaise Zabini._

Satisfied with his letter, Blaise folded it up and tied it to the beautiful owl's leg, while wondering what this new acquaintanceship would mean in school.

* * *

Harry was having a rough day, he and Sirius had been pouring over notes about the animagus ritual Padfoot and Prongs invented. Most days Sirius would teach him Ancient Runes in the morning, giving Harry a detailed account of every magical property of the Nordic rune language, but if they wanted to do the Animagus ritual, and have it take effect by September then they would need to perform it quickly. This meant that Sirius had to deviate from the standard teachings and coach Harry on Egyptian runes.

The two had been studying a textbook on Egyptian runes, the same book that Sirius and James had used twenty years prior, when Hedwig flew in through the open window. Sirius immediately went to check her letter for any charms, a habit he picked up working for the ministry. Satisfied with what he found, Sirius handed the letter to Harry and walked to the kitchen to feed Hedwig.

Harry sat on the couch in the room they used for a school, reading Blaise's letter. The Italian had responded better than Harry expected, then again, Harry hadn't known what to expect. He didn't know how much the tickets to the World Cup would cost, but he knew they had to be expensive. Sirius walked back in and Harry gave him the letter.

Sirius read the letter, adopting what Harry had come to call his 'Lord' expression. Sirius had an intense gaze, and directed all of it at the letter, calculating every aspect of it, and not letting anything escape his notice. "I think he is genuine, and I truly do want to trust Isabella implicitly, but people like Blaise will always go to their parents for guidance. Isa's hand is somewhere in here. I hope it is only the part asking how I am, because that would show that Blaise has a level of critical thinking higher than most his age. The only thing that could be taken as an insult would be that he thought you were not cunning, but honestly you are not known for that particular trait. The offer to buy you a ticket to the World Cup was a bone, most purebloods will show that they intend to take a relationship or alliance farther with an offer to buy something. Sometimes it is simply a meal however, here he is offering a substantial amount of money. I recommend that you decline, obviously cite your intent to go with the Weasleys and see what his reaction is to those society deems lower than him. In a first letter like this one, his offer for the potions is unusual, I think he genuinely wants to help, let him. The potions we are brewing are decent, but not at the level of a professional." Sirius put the letter down, and added almost in an afterthought, "I wonder who he has a vendetta against. Don't respond right away, you do not want to seem like you're at his beck and call. Wait a day, let the letter sink in, and then draft your response."

Quickly getting back to the topic that the two had been discussing before the letter had arrived, Sirius tested Harry on his Egyptian Runes.

* * *

Later that day, Sirius had taken Harry deep into the jungle on the island. They came across a clearing, obviously cut recently, and Sirius began to take supplies out of his bag.

"Pup, we're going to perform the ritual out here, seeing as we haven't documented the results. Any magical discharge will, at most, only level some trees." Sirius grinned. "As much fun as it would be to tell your friends you brought down the house, we don't want to bring down the house."

Sirius handed Harry an engraving tool, it looked much like a wand, but had dozens of layers of wood and metal, all with a different language etched into the surface. Sirius had explained to the teen that without such an engraving tool to use on the ground, the runes would not be nearly as powerful, and might fail. If the runes failed in the middle of the ritual, meaning they lost all magical power, any ambient magic in the area might explode. This would most likely kill whoever was in the middle of the ritual.

Sirius oversaw the entire process, making few remarks, and was primarily there to support Harry. The Egyptian runes made a looping type of pattern on the ground, surprising in their simplicity, yet hypnotic in their complexity. As Harry neared completion his hand never wavered, his concentration never swayed. As the final line was drawn, the now complete figure eight pattern glowed a brilliant blue, bathing the jungle clearing in a haunting light. Sirius had to school his features into a mask, in order for his worry to not distract Harry. The young teen sat cross legged in the direct middle of the figure eight, looking out a side, making the pattern look more like the symbol for infinity than an eight. Harry's eyes glowed with his coursing magic, and he became aware of the ocean of power at his fingertips, the roar of the current flowed through his ears. Never had Harry felt so in tune with his magic, never had he felt such power. Sirius had told him of the sensation, but words could not describe the feeling. As quickly as the sensation came however, it vanished. The light of the runes intensified a hundredfold, and both wizards closed their eyes, however the magic remained. Through their eyelids' darkness they could still see the outlines of power, the magic in the trees, and the life of the animals in the forest. Neither wizard had ever seen a sight so beautiful, so commanding.

Slowly, the magic faded, and so did the beauty of the clearing. Without such a power it seemed mundane, ordinary. When the light of the runes was completely extinguished, and the runes themselves deteriorated, Sirius walked over to the unconscious body of his godson. The man, cruelly attacked by the world, lifted the still too skinny boy in his arms and walked back through the jungle.

* * *

Remus walked into the sitting room the next morning, Sirius had laid Harry on one of the couches, and was sleeping in a chair himself. Sirius, for all the progress the man had made, was still too skinny. Though no one could see his ribs from through his shirt, no one could call the man healthy. Harry, however was just as bad. The boy was malnourished for his entire life, and the effects of that were readily apparent to any who would actually look. The nourishment potions they had been taking for a couple of weeks had done little to help with the boys frame. His shoulders were bony, and his arms had no meat on them. They were simply bone, muscle; and flesh. If he hadn't known that the boy was healthy enough to participate in all of the pranks the two marauders would play on each other, he would have been very concerned. As it stood, Remus was simply going to have to work with Sirius to get the boy to eat until he was full. Without any encouragement the boy would eat only a small plate and be done. Remus was not a nutritionist, but he knew that the lack of food forced Harry's magic to substitute itself as nourishment. If he hadn't personally taught the boy, Remus would assume that his useable magic would be tiny.

"It was incredible Moony." Remus spun on his heel, he hadn't noticed Sirius awaken. "His magic poured itself into the runes on the ground. Honestly, if I didn't know Lily and James, I wouldn't think he was human. When I did that ritual it poured magic into the runes, sure. Hell, it even made the runes glow brighter. But that's all it was. Light." Sirius took a deep breath. "Harry's magic? It… lingered. I closed my eyes and could see better than with them open. The magic was almost alive, I felt it on my skin, in my lungs. Moony, I've looked Voldemort in the eyes, he tried to intimidate me into joining him. He released his magic into the air, the wards around us vibrated, but that was it. With Harry? I could feel it in the animals around us, I could feel it deep in my soul and core. That boy's power was not greater than mine, I honestly think it was less. Deep down, I know I'm currently stronger than him. His magic was different, fundamentally speaking." Sirius took a calming breath. "I don't think Harry's magic works like ours. That worries me." Sirius straightened in his chair. "Do you remember why my family is so feared?"

Remus's head shot up, and his heart sank at the look on his oldest living friends face. It was the face of a man who had seen too much, but knew he still had more to see.

"Their forays into the black arts, right? It's the origin of your name."

"Yes, in a sense. The common masses fear the name Black, because of the knowledge my family has accumulated over the generations. We know Black magic, we know how to skin a man alive in seconds. We can create an inferno to make Fiendfyre look tame, we can cast spells to cause every splinter of wood in a house to implode. But the reason most people fear us is because of our understanding of unique magic. Just look at Andy's little girl, Metamorphmagi were extinct a generation ago. Now one is training as an Auror. The Blacks know the inner workings of a Vampire's powers, they know the bacterial change that takes place in a werewolf's liver. They know things I can barely dream of." For a few deafening seconds, Sirius was silent.

"Moony, I have never heard of what is going on with Harry's magic. That terrifies me, what if certain spells that I might cast at him would detonate his core? What if what would just tickle you would be like the cruciatus for him?"

Remus was lost. For the first time in over a decade he was truly happy, he had his brother back, and he had his nephew in his life. This new information threatened to derail everything in the werewolf's life. A tear leaked it's way out of his eye, and he couldn't stop it. There was a part of him that said that it was all hopeless, that said he wasn't good enough for Harry.

Remus ruthlessly crushed that part of him. He curled his fingers into a fist, and flexed his arm. His amber eyes turned golden, and his sandy blond hair became several shades darker. The part of him that said he wasn't good enough tried to come back, and was met by the mental snarl of a werewolf scorned.

Remus spoke, and bestial magic poured into his words, propelled by the sheer force of Remus's will. "That doesn't matter. None of this matters, he is my nephew, my cub. If someone wants to kill Harry, I'll hunt them to the farthest corner of the globe. They could run to heaven or hell, neither would be willing to shield the bastard from my wrath." The werewolf's teeth started to lenthen and sharpen. For the first time in his life, Remus was completely in sync with his inner beast. "I will not allow anyone to harm my cub, not in this life, or the next."


	4. Chapter 4

**This is probably my least favorite chapter, nothing seemed to fit properly in the beginning. For a while I stopped writing this then picked it back up, and this chapter is the first after I stopped. So I think I got all the inconsistencies, but if I didn't, It's my fault.**

Harry awoke slowly, he found himself lying on a couch in the drawing room. Sitting across from the couch were two chairs, one of which contained Remus, sleeping awkwardly. Harry grinned, Remus was probably not going to leave his side until he awoke, but Sirius, having gone through the ritual himself, most likely was sleeping in his own bed. Harry reached for his wand, having seen it on the end table, and cast a caterwauling charm. The charm designed to alert someone to an attack, emitted a very loud noise, like a muggle bomb siren.

Remus's reaction to the charm was different than what Harry expected. The teen was hoping for some theatrics as Remus's head shot up, maybe he would fall out of his chair, or tip it backwards. Instead, Remus clutched his wand, shot up from his sitting position, and surveyed the room, looking for attackers.

Harry had never seen him like this, it wasn't Moony, the marauder, nor was this his uncle. The man that stood before Harry was different, in charge, powerful. Remus's eyes fell on Harry and his wand at last, and the man smiled and chuckled.

"You scared me cub. I didn't know you knew that variant of the charm."

Sirius came barreling in through the doorframe, shirtless, and with his wand held out. He also was scanning for attackers, and not finding any he looked to Remus.

"The cub learned the charm, from the grimoire, I'd imagine. Lily never did put what the charm was used for exactly in the book."

Sirius let out a sigh of relief, confusing Harry. The raven haired teen blinked owlishly, he simply thought that it was a charm to make noise.

"Harry, that was a charm that Lily made for an emergency siren. The point is that if Death Eaters attacked, a witch or wizard would play the siren. It cuts through a great number of wards and the sound is picked up by the DMLE. A team of Aurors is then dispatched to the location it was played at. It won't make it through the wards here, so don't worry."

"After Hogwarts, I trained as a specialist in the DMLE. I wanted to be able to use my knowledge of the dark arts to help people. It's an ironic statement I know, but I was able to do a lot of good even during training. Lily was a spellcrafter, she made spells like that one to help the common person escape the death eaters. Prongs trained alongside me to be a specialist, and Mad-Eye Moody trained Moony. He knew what Moony was, but he said, and I quote, 'Regulations be damned, you're exactly what the Aurors need. Now, get your arse back on the track, you ran it a minute faster yesterday.'"

Remus laughed and pulled up the side of his shirt, revealing a purplish scar just above his left hip. "You don't make it out of training with Mad-Eye without any scars. He gave me this one in one of the craziest fights I've ever been in. He declared that I passed muster after I survived the fight."

Sirius's gaze darkened as he took in the scar on his friend's side. "In the two and a half years that Moony trained, the war raged. But he got out of training with Moody, and it was as if he was a man possessed. When Moody trains a person, he often doesn't teach how to take prisoners. It's a kill or be killed world in war, and we learned to kill."

The haunted expression in his godfather's face hurt Harry. The man was seeing the faces of the people he had killed, the faces of teenagers that bought into delusions of grandure. Sirius saw his brother's face on every death eater that was younger than he was, and they all haunted him.

"Pup, you have to realize, it looked like Voldemort would win for a long time. The only people who would attack him were the dwindling auror force, or the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's private war brigade. We all were a part of it, all the marauders." Sirius hung his head, "Those were terrifying times. Men, women and children feared for their lives."

Remus put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, let's not talk about this now, we have to get Harry ready to make his gram, and we need to celebrate his successful ritual."

* * *

The following days found the marauders, including Harry, did very little actual work. Sirius had finally convinced the honorable werewolf to accept the fact that he wasn't going to get a decent job, and to live on the island with the others. Much of the day was spent on the beach, the boy and his uncles simply soaking up the sun's rays. They would spend time running on the beach, swimming, and simply living a life that was ripped from them as children.

Harry had finally sat down, to write a letter to Blaise, three days after receiving the Italian's reply.

_Blaise Zabini_

_Firstly, thank you for simply responding to my letter. To address your first question, I mention Anthony Kingsdale because the man that killed him is currently sitting in Azkaban, directly across from the cell my godfather once inhabited. Sirius apparently had a friend in Azkaban, without even knowing it. Someone moved the killer next to Sirius, without any kind of orders or pretense._

_I am grateful for the offer to buy tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, but I was already planning on going with the Weasleys. _

_Sirius is doing quite well, for a man that was in hell on Earth for over a decade. He is not fully healthy by any stretch, but he is not in any medical danger. I would be most grateful for any potions you could send to Remus, they would certainly be better than what we are brewing here. _

_What electives do you take in Hogwarts? I am planning on switching mine to Arithmacy and Runes, and I don't think that I've never seen you in Care or Divination. If you are in one or both of the ones I'm going into, could you tell me about how much you have studied? I don't want to think that I've gotten caught up and am only halfway through what you have done._

_Since you asked about my Godfather, I feel it is only appropriate that I get to ask about your Mother. How is she? Sirius wants to know if she still takes two cubes of sugar in her tea. (Is that some sort of code? As odd as the man can be, that's a weird question to ask someone you haven't heard from in a decade and a half.)_

_I would appreciate it if you could tell me a thing or two about Daphne Greengrass. You were correct in your assumption that I reached out to you on the advice of Sirius, he also recommended her. When I wrote to you I could think of a couple ways to make us seem like equals, to be able to relate to you. I know nothing about Greengrass, or Davis for that matter. Any advice you could give would be incredibly welcome._

_If you'd like, please just call me Harry. _

_Sincerely_

_Harry_

_P.S. If you send your owl to Remus he can add him to the wards. I would not recommend sending things like portkeys or enchanted items, the wards will cause them to detonate violently, but he could bring me letters instead of you having to use Hedwig._

Satisfied with his letter, Harry sent it out with Hedwig, along with a note to Molly Weasley to expect Harry on the twenty third.

_Why aren't Hermione and Ron sending me letters?_ He thought as the white bird flew into the distance.

* * *

Blaise was sitting on his couch, although he was only fourteen and his mother technically owned all the furniture in the house, this one couch was his. It was a deep black color and soft enough that a person's body would sink down into it, but firm enough that they could get out easily. Its armrests and back were inlaid with gold and silver, the cushions were made of Acromantula silk, and the feet were ebony. It was a beautiful couch, and Blaise was the only person who ever sat on it. The couch was on the roof of their Venetian townhouse, a patio had been made on the peak. It was covered by a fine silk canopy, and provided shade to Blaise, while allowing the gentle breezes to pass through undeterred. It was on this couch that most of Blaise's decisions were made, and where he was allowed to think the most freely.

Harry Potter had written to Blaise again. Blaise wasn't sure why he was surprised; after all, Potter had been the one to write in the first place. Blaise was loathe to leave his couch with such a nice breeze, but he went to ask his mother about her tea anyway. The young Italian knew for a fact that his mother used one cube of sugar and a good amount of honey, but Potter, no, Harry, was right. The question seemed like a code. His mother was sitting on the deck once again, in broad view of the eastern hemisphere. Blaise had seen her there two hours previous when he had woken up, he assumed that she had watched the sunrise, and fallen back asleep. After gently shaking his mother awake, Blaise took a step back, and retrieved the Daily Prophet for her.

"Mama, Harry Potter wants to know if you still take your tea with two cubes of sugar."

Isabella looked confused for an instant, then realization dawned on her. "No, he doesn't. Sirius wants to know if I still take my tea that way. Back when we were dating, he would make my tea with sugar and honey first, then I would hex him, then he would make it with two cubes." Isabella smiled in fond remembrance. "To be honest, I started to like the way he made it just before your father took me from him. I've always made it with honey since. Sirius is asking to attempt to rebuild a relationship, in his own slightly infuriating way. It's what he does, he has an uncanny knack for remembering where you were in a conversation that happened months ago."

"What do you want me to say to him Mama?"

"Nothing. I'm going to write to him myself." Isabella Zabini smiled again, it reached her light golden eyes. Blaise found himself smiling right alongside his mother, if Sirius Black could make her this happy as a wanted fugitive, Blaise could just imagine how she would be if the two were truly together once again.

Blaise sat down at his desk, it was plain wood, like everything else in his room. And began to write, he tried to write several different things and ways, before he finally settled on simply writing as to a friend.

_Harry_

_It was good to hear from you again, even if your letter pulled me from my favorite sitting spot. I am not sure why exactly, but I feel as though I can trust you. I'm going to get through the most difficult part first, Daphne Greengrass. Daphne is a very powerful, very cold person. I don't know what the politics of the Gryffindor house are, but in Slytherin, you put on a mask of cold indifference, or you lose credibility. Daphne is such a master of this mask she is called the Ice Queen. I don't know if it is taught to all purebloods, but many of us have a basic understanding of the mind arts. Daphne is possibly a true master, I'm not sure if I've ever seen her display an intense emotion in public. In private is a different matter. I've known her since I was six years old, she is probably my closest friend._

_Daphne is a curious person, her emotions are relatively unstable and she will rarely listen to an explanation before asking questions. Unfortunately, she is a member of the Death Eater circle, her father parades her around like a prized jewel, and intends for her to marry someone of her station. This causes her to put on the air of a perfect Slytherin, exactly what her father wants. I fear that without more friends and confidants, she will succumb to what she is trying not to be. _

_Victor Greengrass is an arrogant fool, who doesn't know the first thing about his daughter. Daphne is wholly against the pureblood regime that her father supports. She sees the philosophies that he spouts as detrimental to our society and the health of magic that will come in future generations. If you can befriend her, you would have an immensely powerful and intelligent witch on your side._

_As to the World Cup, I understand wanting to go with the Weasleys. The bad reputation they have is completely ridiculous. You could even find many Slytherins that highly respect that family. Arthur Weasley is an overworked, underpaid man. The only complaint that people have against him is that he supports Muggle rights._

_William Weasley is a name I've heard many times here in Italy. I think his family calls him Bill. He is one of Gringott's top curse breakers, they have him deep inside some of the most dangerous tombs in Egypt. I think the only reason the rest of his family is poor is their pride will not allow them to take his money. That being said, could you get ask what kind of OWLS and NEWTS Bill got? I think I would enjoy being a curse breaker._

_Charlie Weasley is just as famous in some circles. He got an Echo Class handling license in record time, and is one of the top dragon handlers in one of the most dangerous preserves in the world._

_My Mother is doing quite well, and is writing a letter to Sirius as we speak. I doubt the poor man will be able to escape her clutches at all. (He'd be a fool to try.) It seems that asking about the sugar was not quite a simple code, but it was not an innocent question either. _

_I actually take both Runes and Arithmacy, the homework on those two can often take as long as all my other homework combined. I've been told that the more you know about occulmency, the easier it is to study, something about your mind being organized. I will attach my notes, for you to look through. (By my notes I mean Daphne's notes that I stole and copied.)_

_I'll send the potions to Professor Lupin when I'm able to get them._

_Blaise_

_P.S. My owl's name is Gilgamesh, and he will eat anything near him, please don't let him get any beans._

Blaise found the notes on Arithmacy and Runes, and set a scribing quill to copy each set on a new piece of parchment for Harry.

Walking into his mother's bedroom, Blaise saw her hunched over a piece of parchment, sucking on her quill. Around her feet were a dozen crumpled pieces of paper, each with only a few lines of script.

"Mama, he loved you right? You said you had found the engagement ring." Isabella's face had faint tracks of tears. "Just talk to him, ask him to meet. You don't need to compose an epic. He's a man, you're a woman." Blaise turned to walk out of her room. He heard her quietly sobbing. "Mama," He waited for her to look up. "I love you. If everyone in the world stopped, I would still love you."

Isabella choked back a sob, and stood to clutch her son in a firm embrace. "Blaise… He's the only man that I know truly loved me as me. I can't imagine what he might be like now, after thirteen years in Azkaban."

"If you believe what Harry says, he's the same man that went in."

"Azkaban would change anyone Blaise. Harry didn't know him before, I did."

Blaise extracted himself from his mother's hug, and held her at arm's length. "Mama, you won't know what he's like now until you meet him. Harry said that he was doing well, but he needs happiness in life just as much as you do."

Isabella pulled her son in for another quick hug, and walked to the desk with her head held slightly higher than before.

* * *

"Merlin's bloody underpants!" Remus cursed as the gold wire he was walking with exploded in his hands. "Prongsson, could you please deactivate the containment sphere?"

Harry looked up from his work, he was interlacing runic strips of pure iron over an iridium core. "Moony, the gold will interfere."

For the past few days Harry had been solely focused on the Gram he was making, memorizing the arithmetic formulae that made the intricate device work, and manipulating them. He had gotten to the point where he was working with 'Fabric Iron', it was a sheet of pure iron hammered and magicked into being as malleable as fabric. Each time that he made a fold of the iron over the small ovular iridium disk, he would take the Inscriber and place complex runes on the now exposed surface. There was twenty square feet of the iron fabric, Harry had used the majority of it. Iron was essentially the most plentiful magical conductor, and supposedly toxic to Fae, this made it the most accessible material for gram creation.

Remus looked at Sirius in exasperation, but the convict just raised an eyebrow and returned to his paper.

"Moony, he knows more about what he's doing than we do."

Remus shook his head and put his hands to his temples. "How? You made one of these things yourself."

"The creation of a gram is highly specialized magic. He is very in tune with it, if he says gold will interfere, gold will interfere." Sirius saw Harry waving for him to come over. "What do you need Prongsson?"

Harry gestured to all of the implements on his table, from ink and quills to three separate rune transcribers. "I've hit the high point. I'm at the spot where this marker will make or break the entire gram, and none of these are the right tool."

Sirius picked up each of the inscribers, carefully holding and judging them. "I'll get the wellspring of Eaterna."

Harry's face registered confusion.

"It's the transcriber you used in the animagus ritual. There are twenty four wellsprings in the world. A wellspring is simply a transciber that is exceptionally powerful. Hold tight as I fetch it."

Harry chuckled at the word fetch, and Sirius grinned while shifting fluidly into Padfoot.

"Moony, why didn't you have a gram too?"

Remus chuckled, he had wondered when Harry would ask. "I can't see auras like Sirius and James could, and extremely few people know how to use Malfeasance. So really it's not as great a tool as it seems."

"OK Moony that makes sense. But could you help me? I have an idea as to what this rune should look like, but it's not what the diagram says."

Remus looked at the diagram that was shown in the grimoire, both Sirius and James had used the same rune for this step of the procedure. On a piece of parchment next to the book lay a rune that was wholly dissimilar, but Remus remembered it from old piano lessons his mum forced him to take.

"Weird…"

Sirius had chosen that moment to make his reappearance. "What's weird?"

"Look."

Sirius picked up the parchment that Harry had drawn his rune on, and set it back on the table. "Bah, It's resonance, it's in everything. It's usage here implies that the gram is going to be taking Harry's magic and making it resonate within itself. That isn't rare but it's not standard procedure." Sirius handed Harry the Wellspring, and told him to be careful.

Harry held the wellspring like a pen, meticulously etching the treble clef into the underside of the iron wrapped iridium disk. The blue energy shot from one end of the rod and onto the iron, where it turned a grisly red. Small sparks flew from the disk, and Sirius readied himself to tackle Harry to the floor in case the iron was not pure enough to handle as much magic as was being put through it. The etching created a high pitched whistling sound that seemed to float in the air.

The rune glowed a brilliant red color for a couple of seconds, before changing to an equally brilliant green. As some more time passed, and the three watchers stood in silence, the light that was trying to escape the rune became trapped in a vortex. The vortex swirled around the gram and Fabric Iron, before it finally stilled and the iron absorbed it.

Sirius was the first to break the silence. "The first time I tried that, it exploded."

Remus and Harry laughed at Sirius's expense, and Harry handed the wellspring back to Sirius, who was standing outside of the containment sphere. "No one is allowed to go near the iron or iridium disk. It has accepted my magic, so the hard part is over." Harry looked at the two men, who were somewhat confused. "I don't know how I know, but if you go too near it, your magic will interact with the magic now nestled in the gram." Harry smirked and made an explosion gesture with his hands.

Over the next three hours, Harry worked tirelessly to finish the portion of the gram that required the Iron. He folded and etched dozens of times and dozens of runes, and had many pieces of parchment strewn about, with drawings of each rune before he attempted it on the iron itself. A single mistake could force him to redo the entire procedure, and Fabric Iron was not cheap.

The sun had set, and its rays were but memories when Harry looked up from the last fold of iron. With each fold and etched rune, the gram never gained width or height. It stayed the same size throughout the procedure; Harry absently noted that the lack of logic would infuriate Hermione.

Putting away his supplies quickly, Harry jotted down a note for Remus to pick up some more gold wire, since he blew up the only supply on the island. Harry quickly retreated to his bedroom, exhaustion creeping into his core.

* * *

Harry awoke the next day with the sun far beyond its apex in the sky. After quickly getting ready for the day, Harry walked to the kitchen hoping for breakfast. Instead, he saw Remus floating upside down, eating a ham sandwich. Sirius seemed to be stuck in his Animagus form, eating his own sandwich from a plate on the floor.

As soon as Harry fully walked into the room, gravity seemed to falter, then break. Harry was floating aimlessly through the room. He growled, it was deep and menacing, and felt as if it reverberated through the entire room. The marauders felt a deep shiver of fear in their spines as the noise found them. Harry looked apologetically at the two men, but Remus was concentrating and Sirius was beaming as well as a large dog could. Remus's animagus ward fell, and Sirius transformed back into a man.

"Pup, that was amazing!" The smile hadn't left his face. "We caught you so off guard, your instincts kicked in and you let us know you didn't appreciate it. Combine that with Remus's ward that kept me locked as Padfoot, and you released magic from your animal form."

Remus conjured small gusts of wind to right himself and Harry, before Sirius dropped his own anti-gravity charm. "Padfoot, was that the concentrated fear magic in the growl?"

Sirius nodded, "Aye, it's somewhat common from most large predators. It's the primal sound inducing fear, and things like lions, tigers, bears, and wolves, all use it, if they're magical. You make it yourself on the full moon, just not while you're on wolfsbane." Sirius looked at Harry, "Moony didn't take Care, he thought it was bad enough he had to learn about werewolves in defense."

Remus looked sheepish as he shrugged. "I thought that Arithmacy and Runes would be more profitable. They're needed in a larger amount of jobs, which means that people might have overlooked my monthly habits. After the war, there were harsher regulations on werewolves, so it really didn't matter." Remus looked to Sirius. "Any idea what Harry's growl was?"

Sirius grinned. "It was canine, I know that, and it was big. From something small, you might get something like a tingle on your sense to be wary. But fear you can feel in your bones? That's an apex predator, like a wolf." Sirius looked up into his godson's eyes from his position on the floor. "Given your loyalty to your friends, your sense of honor, and your ability to survive… Really wolf is the only thing I can think of, considering the canine family is small, and domestic dogs are just muggle wolves that have been tamed and inter-bred."

Harry grinned at Sirius, "Maybe it's a Grim?"

From his position on the floor, Sirius shrugged. "Possible, but unlikely. I may be a grim if I work for it, take the transformation further than I already have. But the characteristics of a grim really don't suit you."

"They're tortured beasts, they don't force death, they foretell it. In giving warnings of the end of times, they are seen as monsters. They're hated for doing the right thing. But they're rare, I highly doubt you'll be a grim, you've always wanted a family, and I've always been afraid of one. That's the main difference between whatever you'll turn into and a grim. I fully believe that whatever you turn into, it will be a pack creature."

The three Gryffindors sat around the lunch table, now prank free, eating and talking. For over an hour there was nothing but tales of the Marauders, and a few other students.

* * *

Soon after lunch, Harry found himself sitting at the table holding his gram, with the containment sphere lowered enough as not to interfere with the gold wire for the second to last step in the construction. Harry drew, and redrew the gram in the air with a scribing tool Remus had provided. He needed to position the gold wire in such a way as not to overpower the iron, but make it strong enough to hold the enchantment permanently. After an hour of drawing and modifying, Harry felt confident enough to begin the delicate process. He first made the gold wrap the ovular disk in the direct middle. After he wrapped the wire around fully, he pulled it to the right and made it go off at a forty-five degree angle, then wrapped it again. He repeated the procedure on the other side of the gram. In the end, there was a diamond shape on both sides, creating the magical bond to fully seal the magic in the iron. The next step of the process was the simplest, Harry cut himself on a dagger forged from the purest iron, and let thirty-five drops of blood drip on the gram.

The blood coalesced into the shape of a wolf's snarling visage. The perspective was from the side, and Harry could see a single eye, a single ear, and the sharp teeth of the predator. Sirius told Harry that his own showed a padded pawprint, and James's had shown the antlers of a stag. This symbol was the blood sigil of Harry Potter, the lines and size of the corners were completely unique to him. Harry sealed the cut on his palm with magic, and picked up the gram in his clean hand.

"Padfoot! I finished the gram! I want to test it!" Harry's voice cracked comically halfway through his statement, and Sirius walked around the corner laughing like a maniac. Harry glared at him.

"Pup, most people would never in a thousand years ask for someone to perform malfeasence on them. Now here you are, your voice cracking, and yelling for me to perform illegal magic? It's hilarious."

"Illegal? I know it's combat magic, but why is it illegal?"

"Because of all the things you can do with it. If I got some of your blood, and a lock of your hair, I could set you on fire from the other side of the world. There is no way to trace Malfeasence or Sympathetic Magic. The things a fully trained sympathist can do are terrifying. I've never heard of someone being a master of the art, not for hundreds of years anyway, but I made the gram for other purposes. You made it with the intention of impressing your teachers, with it and the tutoring Remus and I have given you, I'm sure you'll be in the Arithmacy and Runes classes." Sirius walked over to Harry and plucked loose strand of hair from his head.

"Now, I'm going to burn this piece of hair, and your body will feel hot. With only one piece of hair, it won't hurt, but you will feel it." Sirius pulled a muggle cigarette lighter from his pocket, acquired no doubt by Remus, like all of their other purchases. "Magical fire won't work for this. As amusing as it is, muggles have made the best items for sympathy. Now, I want you to put down the gram, so you can see what just one hair can do to you."

Sirius struck the lighter, and the flame danced to life. Sirius closed his eyes in deep concentration, when he opened them, they were glassy. He moved the hair to the lighter, and it quickly ignited.

Harry felt the heat. It was as if he was standing in the sunlight of the peak of summer, even though it was quite cool in the house. The hair flared under the fire, and the smoldering section of hair grew hotter, and so too did Harry's body. He could feel the burn deep in his body. The hair was completely consumed by the slow embers, and Harry marveled at what kind of reaction it provoked from his body.

Sirius curled his fist around the hair, extinguishing any heat, and closed the link between the hair and Harry. "Now you see the dangers presented by Malfeasence. I will say again, most people have never heard of it, and those who have most likely don't know how to create the link necessary."

"The Malfoys however, teach sympathy to all of their heirs. It's a tradition that dates back to when they were still in France I believe. Now, pick up your gram and I'll do it again."

Harry retrieved his gram from the table he had placed it on, and Sirius grabbed another hair. Sirius lit the second hair, and the gram became ice cold in Harry's hand. The teen could feel the magic trying to force itself on him, but being prevented. Sirius let the hair burn itself out and become cold.

"The cold feeling is artificially created, can you tell me how?"

Harry grinned at the simple way his godfather questioned him. "The third series of runes in the iron cause it to become cold when repelling attacks, intentional or not. If I were to not want it to become cold from unintentional attacks, I could omit the twenty-third to twenty-fifth runes."

Sirius grinned and clapped Harry on the back. "Fifty points to Gryffindor for the successful creation of a class four enchanted item!" Harry smiled and walked back to his room, the creation process was quite draining.

* * *

Shortly after Harry had retired to his bedroom, Sirius and Remus found themselves sitting in the drawing room.

"Remus I need to ask you to do something you won't want to do. Something you won't feel comfortable doing."

Remus looked Sirius in the eye, and judged the man's intent. For his whole life, Sirius Black had expressive eyes, and his friends learned to read them. Now, Remus found the light of insanity that always came before a great prank, and at the same time a grave foreboding.

Remus poured himself some of the firewhiskey sitting on a table near him.

"What do you have in mind?"

Sirius smiled, it was grim and feral. "I need you to call in some favors. I need access to the Potter family tree, and it's kept very secret in their vault. James was going to show it to me November fifth, but he died before he could. Whatever is I need to know to teach Harry, I think the tree can show me. The Potters were very secretive about it."

"How would I? It's not easy getting legal access the family vaults, and damn near impossible to break in."

"It'll take time, but I need you to talk to Lady Longbottom, Lord Kent, and Lord Barrion. Each of them are powerful members of the Wizengamot, Ezekiel Kent owes me for saving his ancestral home in the first part of the war. Rafael Barrion owes me for getting him out of a foul marriage contract. I need you to get them to promise me their aid."

"Rafael Barrion is an evil man Padfoot, while the prejudice against you stems from hatred of your family, that man is as vile as the come." Remus refilled and drained his firewhiskey.

"Exactly, he won't want to owe me anymore, he'll help me clear my name so he won't have to help me directly in the war. If you can get me the aid of all three of those people, it'll go a long way to clearing my name." Sirius walked over to the large chair he had claimed at the start of summer. "Besides, Augusta Longbottom and Ezekiel Kent will keep Barrion in line."

Remus sighed, he had always wanted to stay as far away from politics as possible. "Padfoot, Lord Barrion won't allow me anywhere near him. He has no children in Hogwarts, but he certainly knows what I am. How do you expect me to get near enough to him to deliver that message?"

"You're a dark creature, and the Blacks are a dark family. You will wear the sigil of the House of Black, and he will listen."

The convict placed his hands on his face and kept them there for a time. "Moony, I don't want this. I don't want to be a Lord, and I'm not in any position to raise Harry. Merlin, I'm still basically raising myself. Lords are cold Moony, I don't want to be cold. I want people to be able to walk up to me on the street and introduce themselves, I want the freedom of the commoners."

Remus sat on a chair opposite to Sirius's, and put his elbows on his knees. "Padfoot, get over yourself."

Sirius looked up at Remus.

"You are a Lord now. You are Lord Black, and until you teach Harry you are the Proxy Lord Potter. I don't want to be a werewolf, but I am. You don't want to be a Lord? Tough. We're in this, for better or worse. Now you get to put into motion some of those plans you concocted with James." Remus's unfaltering gaze locked with Sirius's nearly defeated eyes. "I know that you have seen what happens to Lord Blacks, I know Padfoot. But you can be a better Lord than your family, Charlus was a Lord and highly respected."

"That's just it Moony, respect. Any that I earn, people will want to use to get the knowledge that my family has kept secret. I always wanted to stay out of those forms of magic, I didn't want to know some of those spells. Now I'll have to learn, to keep Harry safe and happy." Sirius looked at the ceiling, the drawing room was directly below Harry's bedroom. "Then the real problem shows itself Moony. Harry will need to know this magic. He will need to know it's inner workings if he's going to have any chance of surviving Voldemorts' vendetta."

Remus followed Sirius's gaze to the heavens. "Well, we'll just teach him how to use the power properly. We can show him what the spells do and how to control them."

"Just spells won't cut it Moony. Harry needs to know how to cast and modify spells on the fly, he needs to be as skilled as Voldemort, and he doesn't have the fifty years that bastard had. Harry has probably less than five."

"I know Padfoot. We need to figure out a way to get Harry up to at the very least, the level of the inner circle in two years."

"Yes, and they took over a decade of training and hard work." Sirius's eyes darkened and his countenance changed once again. "The only thing I can think of would be for us to study the ancient rituals. I know there are hundreds, if not thousands, that don't require sacrifice. We need to see the Potter family library, and when Harry is in school, we need to get into the Raven Borough library."

Remus's jaw slackened, and his eyes turned huge. "But, I thought the entrance was destroyed!"

Sirius smiled. "No, my grandfather said that to make my family believe that. He told me in his will that it was locked to all but the family head." Sirius lifted his right hand, showing the ornate silver and onyx signet ring.

"And that's you." Remus finished.

"Aye, that's me. This year we're going to eat, sleep, and dream in that library." Sirius grinned maliciously. "Voldemort would give his left arm to be allowed in that library. We're going to make sure that not being granted access is what killed him," Sirius waved his hand for Remus to finish the sentence.

"And save Harry." Finished Remus

"Aye, saving Harry is the endgame. I will not allow his life to be cut short like James'. He will live as long as Dumbledore, and see his Great-Grandkids graduate Hogwarts. I swear it on my bones."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys, I have an apology to make. The last chapter I uploaded I referenced a pheonix egg, that was a plot point that I was not using and I thought I got rid of. The reference has been deleted, but if you were confused, just ignore it. In this chapter I explain how magic works, I was hesitant to delve so deep into magical theory in my first story, but in the end I just decided that I didn't like the way Mrs. Rowling did it.**

* * *

Black and silver, red and bronze, every color imaginable flowed and ebbed in a dome above the Isle of Black. Harry Potter sat on the beach of the tranquil island, his hands buried in the sand. With the completion of his gram, and the animagus ritual, Harry had little pressing to do. He felt like he probably understood Hermione's incessant ramblings about books she was reading. His mind had grown accustomed to the strain of understanding the runes to be used in the complicated procedures, and it ached for the same kind of pressure.

Sirius and Remus had taken to teaching the boy everything from first to third year, all over again. They realized that with a variant of a learning disability from the curse scar, Harry might not grasp everything about the spells. The grown marauders had taken to teaching Harry more magical theory than spells. They said that everything they would probably teach him, he would learn in school anyway.

In order to not bore the soon to be fourteen year old, the men ramped up their prank war. Nearly every day, Harry was involved in a prank. Some were elaborate, and some were simple.

Every day Harry was amazed by the skill that his pseudo uncles would wield their magic with. He began to understand how every student in Hogwarts became more skilled by simply attending at the same time as the Marauders. Harry often spent hours in front of his mirror trying to undo spell damage caused by the pranks he was caught in. Without more knowledge or experience, Harry was hesitant to retaliate.

One benefit that Harry began to see was that his body was filling out. The potions Blaise promised had come to Remus's house, and they helped Sirius and Harry in extreme ways. Gone was the skinny, boney boy that was last year's Harry Potter. In his place stood the new Harry. At above average height, and a fencer's build, Sirius was convinced that Harry's fan club would grow exponentially next year.

Sirius now had roughly the same physique as he did before he went into Azkaban. The healer's potions combined with Dobby's cooking had done wonders for the escaped inmate. His hair had the shine it did before his incarceration, and his body was on the fast track to rebuilding the densely corded muscles of the man's youth.

Harry sighed as he watched the tide break against the beach. The sea spray made the secluded cove smell of sea water, and the pockets of standing water made for excellent hideaways for crabs. The young teen's eyes shifted from the crustaceans and their boring grey hued aura back to the dome of magic. Sirius had explained that it was generations of Black wizards adding their own personal flairs to the wardstone that gave it so many colors.

With the creation of his gram, and the fact that it operated based on Harry's resonance rather than simply its own magic, Sirius gave Harry a crash course on one of the most enigmatic principles of magic, the effect of Resonance on a person or a creature. Over a three hour period of one on one teaching, Harry's head was spinning.

Sirius had simply laughed and told Harry that most of his seventh year classmates were simply happy to understand that resonance happened. They didn't think that the headache was worth the learning.

Remus had backed up his friend, and told Harry that the previous year, only one person bothered to actually study resonance in any depth. The skilled defense professor had explained the concept to the student, and given a demonstration on the practical usage of it. The student, a male Slytherin named Davin Larron, had immediately asked Remus to teach him how to control his own resonance. Remus explained to Harry that that was why he had to wait until the second term to teach the patronus, it was a vastly complicated process teaching Davin.

Not for the first time, Harry thought back to his 'lesson' with Sirius.

"_Pup resonance is the power of magic given life through senses. It is color, and sound, it has a feel and its own taste. With a strong enough nose, you can smell it."_

"_Using your gram, you can see the resonance in the air, you can feel the effect of wards, and you can smell the decay of magic. When you look at me with your gram's power active, what do you see?"_

_Harry thought for a moment, he saw it clearly, but explaining what he saw seemed impossible. "I see, almost a silvery pulsing aura. It's there, but it's not there. It sounds like an elegant dance with drums? I don't know how to explain it."_

_Sirius smiled and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Good! The aura and sounds are basic parts of who I am. As my moods shift, so too will my aura and music. I've been told that when I'm angry, it's as if dozens of souls were screaming a haunting chorus. I've always been afraid to listen to my own anger." Sirius bowed his head sheepishly._

"_You often don't know what your own aura is or looks like, nor do you hear your own music. It is very true what they say, that you often know others better than you know yourself."_

_Harry felt that he was following, it wasn't very complicated at all._

"_But that's not what people use resonance for. Resonance is a measure of your magic. If you can directly control your own resonance, you can control your magic much more effectively. Take for example, Dolohov, he's a death eater, and very good with cutting curses."_

"_With Dolohov's skill for lacerating his foes, he most likely has a resonance that is very cutting-oriented. But, what if a particularly clever witch or wizard throws up a shield that will hold against cutters very effectively?"_

_Harry thought for a moment, "I don't know, he would cast a blasting hex?"_

_Sirius smiled. "Yes, he would, but he is very good at manipulating his resonance in real time, so he would shift its' specialty from cutters to blasters. That means that a blasting hex that would feel like a sledgehammer to the gut, would instead feel like getting hit by a truck. This is called freeform magic, and it is exceptionally difficult. I think it is one of the requirements Voldemort has for his inner circle, the ability to wield freeform."_

"_But that's not all. Take for example a troll, trolls have very magic resistant hide. You know this from your encounter with one in your first year. This magical resistance comes from a troll's resonance."_

_Harry held up a hand, indicating for Sirius to pause his speech for a second. "Hold on, trolls have resonance?"_

_Sirius chuckled softly. "Yes, everything magical has resonance; even nonliving things. Another example I could use would be the metal Tisirium. Both trolls and tirsirium have a deep and grey resonance. If you can mimic the resonance of one perfectly, down to the color's hue, and the music's pitch, you can circumvent the powerful resistances both have. As the things you try to mimic become more powerful, they become much harder."_

"_Trying to mimic a kneazles's magic wouldn't be very hard, nor would it take very long. On the other hand, if you tried to mimic a dragon…"_

_The thought made Sirius smile. "A dragon would be nearly impossible to mimic. They have their own magic, and varying levels of intelligence. A typical, run of the mill dragon won't change it's resonance. If you could mimic it exactly however, you would still have to deal with the dragon's scales, and the fact that dragons bones and teeth are harder than steel."_

_Harry suddenly found himself in awe of Ron's brother, Charlie._

"_Now, Pup, let's work on getting you to control your resonance."_

Harry groaned, remembering the exercises his godfather had made him do to try to control his magic. Each one was built simply to frustrate him until his resonance changed to help with the task. He was supposed to then understand the change, and force it to happen again.

It didn't work. Sirius tried again the next day, and the day after that, and that was why Harry was lying on the beach, hidden by the sheer cliff walls and a large boulder. Sirius wanted to get Harry to try again that day, and Harry was simply too frustrated.

The teen was quite sure that he wouldn't be found. He cast his scent all over the island to mess with Padfoot's nose, and he silenced his breathing with a specialized spell.

Harry scratched the spot over his right shoulder blade that Sirius had implanted the thin gram. When Harry asked where Sirius recommended he put the gram, Sirius had offered several places, but the shoulder blade was the best one in Harry's opinion. The raven haired teen considered putting it in his left forearm, where Sirius told him the dark mark lay on the Death Eaters. Unfortunately for him, that would have caused a loss of functionality in his left hand.

Harry heard footsteps crunching on the sand behind him, and let out a menacing growl.

Remus walked into the irritated teen's line of sight with his hands in front of him, a sign of surrender. "I'm not going to make you try to work on your resonance. It's not necessary for a long time yet." The sandy haired werewolf sat on the sand next to Harry. He looked out over the beach, a wistful expression in his amber eyes.

"Before you were born, we all came out to this island. Your mum got it in her head that she was going to build a sailboat."

Harry's eyes were focused on the werewolf, begging him to continue. Remus saw the look in his eyes and smiled.

"I don't know why, but she was so adamant that she would build an amazing sailboat. She went into the jungle and used a few powerful cutting curses to fell several trees. After that she brought the entire tree trunks to this cove, and used a sticking charm to fasten them all together." Remus chuckled in rememberance. "It was the most pathetic looking boat I've ever seen. Imagine just sticking eight palm trees together to make a big U shape. She used another tree that was torn apart by her spells as the back and front of the boat, because she didn't bend any of the trees. After about three hours of diligent work, and lots of laughing from the rest of us, she declared the boat seaworthy."

"She convinced Prongs to get in it with her, and to sail off into the sunset." The werewolf shook his head slowly. "James knew what was going to happen, but there was no arguing with your mother. He got in it with her, and cast numerous charms over his body and clothes to keep them dry. She laughed at him, and said that her boat was ship-shape and ready to sail."

Remus put his hand to the side of his mouth away from Harry and whispered conspiratorially. "I think she had a concussion or something. Maybe she just inhaled the wrong potion fumes."

"Anyway, she and James managed to the boat into the water, and it sailed."

Harry's jaw went a bit slack. "It did? My mum made a boat that sailed on her first try?"

Remus laughed, it was deep and came from his core. "Sort of. You see, she was so incredible with charms, the logs repelled water, and it glided over the waves effectively."

Sirius walked up, having finally pinpointed the sounds of talking and laughing. "Don't forget, Lily forgot to make a sail or rudder." He chuckled, envisioning the boat.

Harry laughed, picturing his mum and dad trying to steer the boat without its most important features.

Remus continued the story, laughter in his eyes. "After about five minutes in the water, the boat simply fell apart. There was so much magic in the water here, it overrode the spells keeping the boat together."

"Lily was sputtering about how everything had been going according to plan, and your dad was laughing at her." Remus laughed again, more softly this time.

"She even named the boat." Sirius said. "It was the _Setting Sun_. When we got back to England, James went to a harbor, and bought a sailboat. He named it the _Setting Sun II_, and he set sail with Lily for a month."

Remus laughed at the memory again, and ruffled Harry's hair. "You were born eight and a half months later. It must have been some pleasure cruise."

All three wizards laughed and told more stories, reliving the glory days of the Marauders.

* * *

July passed quickly, faster than any month Harry had ever been part of. On his birthday, Remus took Harry to the Royal Western Yacht Club. Harry walked among the yachts until he found the _Setting Sun II_. He was overcome with emotion, and thanked Remus profusely for taking him.

Remus just nodded and said that it's what anyone would have done for him. Remus's eyes had a glazed look to them, and Harry saw the man was on the verge of tears himself.

Together the pair of wizards had lunch, and spent the day exploring the neighboring town.

Sirius, unable to leave the island, told Harry that although he was working on his birthday present, it might not be available for a long time. But he did tell Harry what it was.

"Each of the inscribers you used on the gram used a solitary language. The three were, as you know, Greek, Latin, and Norse. However, a wellspring is a transcriber that is made with over two dozen languages and vast inherent magical power. I have the power, and I know nine runic languages. Over the course of the next year, I intend to learn many more. I'm trying to make a wellspring for you Harry."

Sirius had said that he expected to be done in a year or two, but Harry was doubtful. Runic languages were easier to learn than normal ones, but a wellspring needed twenty four languages. Sirius still needed to learn thirteen.

August passed similarly to July. Harry spent it reading his Runes and Arithmacy texts, and studying the notes Blaise had sent him. Harry noted that Daphne's notes were very through, and condensed at the same time. Hermione had a tendency to simply copy down everything that the professor said, and that made studying her notes a bit of a chore. In comparison, Daphne's were easier to read, and the information was more obvious.

Blaise and Harry had continued writing to each other, and were starting to develop a good friendship through the letters. Neither offered very much personal information, but both felt they knew each other better than most.

Isabella had sent Remus a letter to give to Sirius, and the two started communicating again. Isabella noted with a wry humor that the authorities that kept a close eye on her were probably very nervous about the quantity of letters coming and going from her house. Sirius told her various things she could do to drive them mental, and she took pictures of the watcher's reactions. The two were quickly rebuilding the relationship that was stolen from them.

By the time August twenty first, the day he was going to leave for the Weasleys, came around, Harry was confident that he could place in the fourth year classes he was studying for. He had made some progress on unlocking his Animagus, but he wasn't close enough. Sirius had thought that by waging a prank war, the instincts would become far more prominent, and Harry would have shifted by then. He warned that the first transformation could be right around the corner.

Harry also attempted several more times to manipulate his resonance, but couldn't manage it. Remus and Sirius told him not to worry, and that he shouldn't need it for a long time. Harry, however couldn't escape the nagging feeling that he would need both skills this upcoming year.

Harry walked into the kitchen on the morning of the twenty second, his trunk floating lazily behind him. Dobby was in the kitchen preparing a large breakfast, since it was the last day he would get to serve Harry.

Sirius looked up from his syrup coated sausages, and grinned. He pulled out a bag of coins, and threw it to Harry. "Here, I've always wanted to be the cool friend who buys everything. But Prongs was just as rich as I was, and Moony refused any form of charity. The only person I could buy for was Wormtail, but he became entitled, so I stopped." Sirius shrugged and gestured to the coin purse. "Just tell Ron and Hermione that Padfoot's paying for everything."

Remus walked in from outside, his eyes alight. "Are you ready to go? I've already made the portkey for the trip."

Harry nodded, and Remus grabbed his trunk, and tapped his wand to a rope, saying "Padfoot's parting present."

Instantly, Harry was sucked into the vortex of colors, sights and smells that came with a portkey. He was spinning at a breakneck speed, and could only hold on to his breakfast by focusing on the relaxed form of Remus.

As quickly as it began, the spinning ended. Harry crouched, and tried to land without falling. It didn't work, Harry found himself on his backside as soon as he landed. Remus laughed as he pulled the floating trunk up to the front door of the Burrow. He called back over his shoulder.

Remus knocked on the front door, and, predictably, a redhead answered. He was built more like the twins than Ron. While Ron and Percy were lanky, this Weasley was stockier. He also had a shiny burn on his right side, just peaking over the collar of his shirt.

"Well, hello. Ah, welcome to the Burrow, what do you want?"

Remus chuckled as he looked over the stocky redhead's shoulder, looking for one of the Weasleys he knew. "I'm Remus Lupin, and I'm here to drop off The-Boy-Who-Lived." Remus ducked as he sensed a clump of dirt being thrown at him. The redhead simply caught the dirt, not allowing it to get in the house.

"Ah, Ron's been waiting. I'm Charlie, would you happen to be the defense professor from last year?"

Remus smiled and nodded.

"Brilliant. I've been hoping to talk to you. Percy, the twins, and Ron rarely agree on anything, however they all say that you were an amazing defense teacher." Charlie opened the door for Remus, and picked up the trunk that had fallen from the magic holding it up.

Harry had finally made his way to the door, and Charlie smiled and waved him in.

The first thing Harry noticed were the smells coming from the kitchen. Although he had just eaten a large breakfast, he still wanted to taste the food being prepared. The sounds were those that were unique to the Weasley house, Ginny was threatening Ron, the twins caused an explosion, and Mrs. Weasley was yelling at someone.

Strangely though, Harry didn't feel the same things he felt last time he was in the Burrow. The last time, he had felt at home, as if he was a member of the family. Instead, Harry felt as if he was simply at his friend's house.

"Honestly Bill, with that earring? What do your bosses say?" Mrs. Weasley's argument finally made it's way to Harry's ears.

"Mum, they don't care as long as I bring back lots of treasure." Harry knew that Bill's job was to break into Egyptian tombs and retrieve gold and precious gems, which are often cursed. Rounding the corner to the kitchen, Harry got his first look at the eldest Weasley. He was tall, with a bright red ponytail, and a fang earring.

Harry had thought that with Bill having been the Head Boy, and a prefect, he would have been like Percy. But instead he looked like the definition of cool. His clothes wouldn't have looked out of place in a muggle rock concert. However, the boots he was wearing were high quality dragon hide.

It was obvious to Harry from the stitching on his jacket and pants, Bill's clothes were custom made. Blaise was right, Bill had to make a lot of money, but his parents wouldn't accept any of it. With that revelation, Harry saw a large parallel between Remus and Mr. Weasley.

Harry looked back at Bill's earring, it seemed, off. Drawing up the power in his gram, Harry looked for the magic in the room. He felt the resonance of all the Weasleys in the area, but his eyes were drawn to the power in the fang.

Harry smirked. "Actually Mrs. Weasley, I think that Bill's bosses might be upset if he stopped wearing the most important feature of his job."

Bill laughed loudly. It was infectious as he turned to Harry. His hand went up to rub the earring. "Harry Potter, full of suprises aren't you?"

Bill walked to Harry and extended his hand, Harry shook it, gripping just as tightly as the Curse Breaker.

"Man kid, nice grip. How did you know the earring is a Sensor?"

"I have one too, I made it this summer. I am hoping that the project my uncle and I did will let me into the fourth year Arithmacy and Runes classes." Harry shrugged as Bill's eyebrows rose.

"That's very impressive. I would assume that your uncle also fixed your eyesight?"

"No, the goblins did that. They also helped deal with my scar." Harry brushed the hair on his forehead away from his scar, the faint white line could only be noticed because of Harry's tan.

Bill was thoughtful for a moment, then asked, "June the twenty-ninth?"

Harry grimaced, he knew why Bill would know the date. "Yes, four goblins died trying to kill whatever was in the scar. They told me it possessed one and they had to restrain the goblin, and kill whatever was in it."

Bill's eyes took on a haunted look as he seemed lost in a memory. "It sounds almost like an Ankh. I wasn't willing to pick one up a year ago, but one of the apprentices did. The soul of a pharaoh possessed her. We couldn't figure out how to get the soul out, and the apprentice killed herself to be free from the pain."

"I don't know how you managed to keep something in your head for so long, so congratulations on surviving." There was no humor in Bill's eyes, nor in his tone. If anything there was a slight amount of awe.

Harry shrugged again, not sure how to respond. As he walked into the family room, he heard Hermione jabbering to Remus about her Defense essay. Harry spotted Ron in a chess game with Mr. Weasley, which Mr. Weasley was losing spectacularly, oblivious to the multitude of questions his friend was asking.

Remus for his part looked agitated. He had grown accustomed to one on one teaching with Harry, where each question was thought out and worded precisely. The flurry of questions were made impossible to answer by the bushy haired witch simply asking another right as she finished the first. Harry felt that the general gist of the questioning was about the summer homework.

"Hermione." Most of the heads in the room turned to Harry as he spoke. Various exclamations reached the raven haired teen, but he was first going to continue speaking to Hermione. "Remus isn't going to grade your essay. He isn't even going to see it."

Hermione looked like a fish out of water. Her mouth opened and closed, but not a sound came out. "But, he can still answer my questions!" She finally managed.

Remus responded quickly. "Hermione, think it through yourself. The teachers don't want what is said in the textbook, they want you to explain it simply. When you add extra information on to an essay, it only makes grading more irritating for the professors."

"None of them would say that to you of course, they would tell you that you had done extensive research. But one somewhat frequent complaint in the staff room is how your essays were so much longer than necessary. I only ever gave you E's or even A's because you didn't simplify your statements, they were too broad. I asked you a focused question and you would answer with a broad statement from your textbook. I want to know how you think and how you reason through your problems, it's what all the professors want. You are a very bright young witch, but your critical thinking skills seem very lacking."

The room was shrouded in silence. Remus's gaze held no mirth, his face showed no humor.

Ron was the first to recover from the verbal lashing that the former professor delivered. "You take that back! Hermione does too have critical thinking skills!"

Hermione's eyes were watery, and she turned to smile at Ron. The redhead's ears were as crimson as the hair on his head.

"No Ron, I won't take it back." The sandy haired werewolf replied. "I know it's harsh, but it's the truth Hermione. In not one paper of yours did I find critical thinking. You would simply parrot the textbook, to the letter. I know what the textbook says, and I know what all the other books you would use say. I want to hear your reasoning. I want to know how you think in calm situations, I taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was my job to get you ready to tackle the evils of this world, and yet, how can I give you instruction if I don't have an inkling of how you think?"

"Do you simply recite a textbook in your head whenever you are in need?"

Hermione nodded, confirming that was what she did.

"There was a girl like that in my school days." Remus spoke softly, hesitantly. "Her name was Marlene McKinnon. She was very bright, but she always used the textbooks as her reference. She fought against Voldemort, as I am sure you plan to." Remus ignored the flinches at the name of the dark lord.

"If you ask Hagrid, he'll tell you that Marlene was one of the best. She was very skilled, and she knew a lot about spells and their effects."

Hermione looked through a curtain of her own hair, a few tears had rolled down her cheeks. "Where is she?"

Instead of Remus answering, as Harry expected him to, Mr. Weasley spoke. "She's dead Hermione. Antonin Dolohov killed her with a spell of his own creation. Marlene knew as many spells and counter spells as she could possibly learn, but didn't know enough about magical theory, or the inner workings of magic to reverse the damage done to her. Mr. Lupin's words are harsh, but true."

Remus knelt next to Hermione, and placed a hand on her shoulder. He whispered into her ear, and her countenance changed drastically. She went from crying to furious in a heartbeat.

Remus quickly stood and left the Burrow. There was no crack, but Harry knew he dissapparated, the werewolf was very quiet in his movement.

Ron was looking at Harry, wondering why he didn't say anything to the marauder.

Hermione was seething, and quickly bolted out the back door.

Harry was counting on his fingers, and nodding. "It's a full moon tonight, under most circumstances Remus wouldn't have said those things. He's normally very reserved."

Ron looked like he had been struck. "You think that excuses him?! He just told Hermione she was stupid!"

Harry was about to respond when Charlie intervened. "No Ron, he didn't. He told her that she didn't employ critical thinking on her essays, and that was detrimental to her grades. I don't know what he whispered, but I doubt it was very flattering. Mr. Lupin was being very honest, and telling Hermione what she didn't want to hear. Unfortunately in this case, that was his honest opinion of her. If you get mad at him for doing that, you need to start getting mad at yourself. You have no filter on your tongue, whatever you think, you say. Mr. Lupin did the exact same thing, but just against one of your friends."

Ron spluttered, he obviously wasn't used to being talked down to by Charlie. "No I don't! Besides, he had no right to say any of that."

Charlie sighed, growing tired of his brother's antics. "He had as much right to say that as you do to say that all Slytherins are slimy gits. I dated one from sixth to seventh year, she was not slimy at all. You don't like them based on the fact that Morgana LeFay and You-Know-Who were in Slytherin. I dated one based on the facts that she was very pretty, very intelligent, and that Merlin himself was a Slytherin. Get over yourself and your schoolboy grudge."

Ron stormed up to his room, unwilling to hear any more of what his brother had to say.

After a brief moment of silence, Harry spoke. "Today could have gone better."

Mr. Weasley chuckled mirthlessly. "No, it went very well. Ron needed to hear that, and Hermione's antics do often need to be curbed. She can be bossier than necessary, and far too overbearing. I think she read too far into Remus's words. But at the same time, he probably should not have said what he did. That whole conversation went to hell in a handbasket."

Mr. Weasley looked to his second son, "Thank you for saying what needed to be said."

Charlie shrugged, nonplussed. "He needed to hear it. Besides, I fight dragons for a living, and live all the way over in Romania. There's really nothing to worry about from Ron."

* * *

Harry sat in the family room for a little over an hour, talking to Charlie about the dragons on the preserve mainly.

"Saran is a Hungarian Horntail, she's vicious, and nesting. She has a clutch of about a dozen eggs, but I don't know how many are fertile."

Harry's brow drew together in confusion.

"A dragon will often lay somewhere near ten eggs, but only one or two will be fertile. That way, if a Brownsen or an Albara try to take an egg they could get away with nothing."

"A what?"

Charlie laughed. "Sorry, I forgot you're only going into your fourth year. A Brownsen is a man sized flightless bird, and an Albara is a magical breed of Hyena. Both eat the eggs of dragons."

"That doesn't seem very smart." Harry noted.

"No, but they do it anyway. If we find any of them near the reserve we just stun them and feed them to the dragons. Saran has developed quite a taste for Brownsen drumsticks." Charlie grinned, it was feral and nearly draconic, which made Harry laugh.

"What? It wasn't that funny of a joke."

Harry slowly stopped laughing, "No, its not that. When you grinned I thought it looked draconic, I found it humorous considering your occupation."

Charlie grinned again. "I've been told that a lot. Sylla, the head of the preserve, says that it's why the dragons like me so much. I think that the dragons just like me more because of my hair, there is an apprentice with hair like mine, and the dragons love her too."

Harry smiled, thinking that his mum would have gotten along great with dragons then. He looked at the clock on the wall, and saw that enough time had passed that Ron had probably cooled off.

"It's been nice talking to you Charlie, and I'd love to hear more about the dragons later, but now I'm going to go try to talk to Ron. He really needs to change this year." _Or else I don't see our friendship going anywhere._ Harry added in his mind, it was hard to admit, but Ron really needed to grow up in order for their friendship to work.

Harry walked up the many stairs to Ron's room, dreading the impending conversation. He knew that he needed to talk to Ron about Blaise, and he didn't think that the volatile redhead would take kindly to his new found Slytherin friend. _Just another issue to deal with…_

Harry knocked on Ron's door, and walked in without being invited. The redheaded boy was lying on his mattress, staring at his ceiling. The boy's blue eyes shifted to his bedroom door, and he groaned loudly.

"Oh, it's you."

Harry stood still, confused by his friend's reaction. "What's wrong?"

Ron stood from his bed and walked to Harry, the redhead was a solid three inches taller than the raven haired boy. "Why didn't you say anything to Professor Lupin? He had no right to say any of that."

Ron turned and threw his hands in the air. He was silent for a time his back to Harry, eventually he turned around. There was a fire in his eyes that Harry had never seen there before. "You even defended him!" Ron grabbed Harry's shoulders roughly. "He made Hermione cry! And you defended him!"

Raw emotion passed through Ron's eyes, he was hurt, he felt betrayed, and he was angry. Ron was angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "Why? Why did you defend him?"

Harry worked hard to keep on a mask of indifference, the same mask that Sirius wore when speaking as Lord Black. "Because Ron, Remus is a good man, and he needed to say what he did. I defended him because he hardly ever says what's on his mind. It's good for him, he needs to let loose more often. Besides, you know as well as I do that what he said was the truth."

Ron's face went slack, as if he'd just been slapped. However it didn't last, his jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with fury. "Truth, Harry? The truth is that she is our friend! She is always there for us when we need it! You just stood there! You could have said something, you could have made this better! Professor Lupin shouldn't have said anything. He really is just a dark creature!"

Harry's fist was flying before he even realized it. It impacted with Ron's cheek solidly, and the tall redhead grasped it in shock and pain. Harry growled deeply and menacingly, it started in his core and extended through his entire body. His magic shifted, and he sensed his resonance change drastically.

Ron cowered, never having heard Harry's growl nor felt the power of his magic. Harry's eyes burned with intensity and rage. He spoke lowly, his anger seeping into his voice. "Never speak that way about my uncle again. Remus has been there for me all summer, where were your letters? What have you said to me?"

Harry felt his insides begin to change. His ribs were elongating, and his tailbone began to grow. He walked quickly from Ron's room, and once he was clear of the Burrow, he sprinted to the apple orchard.

Fur sprouted on Harry's arms, it was thick and black as midnight. His jaw began to extend, and his teeth grew. The hair on his head became shorter and more matted, while his eyes turned to a dark golden color. His pupil contracted and expanded quickly, adjusting to the light. His back lengthened and arched, while his hands grew webbing halfway up the fingers. Fur was sprouting all over his body, and he was quickly losing a portion of his mind to the instincts of the wolf. His anger at Ron increased, and he began to search for the boy's scent.

Harry wrestled for control with the wolf. A part of him wanted to give in, to let the wolf win. Harry knew that he couldn't, so he fought. The wolf fought back, it wanted to rip into the one who insulted his pack, and it wanted to dismember Ron.

After a couple intense minutes, Harry got control of the wolf. Its instincts and mind were still intact, but they took second place to Harry's. He walked around, letting the wolf guide his motions, and found himself in front of a reflective pond. The blue sky and clouds were clearly reflected in the water, and so was Harry's new body.

The first thing he noticed was his size. He was almost as large as a horse. His paws were the size of dinner plates, and his teeth were several inches long. He was a Dire Wolf, one of the greatest predators in the world. He put his nose to the sky and sniffed. His sense of smell was so much greater now. He could smell the sap of the apple trees, and the growing apples. He could smell the animals in the brush, the rabbits darting around the trees. He grinned, it made an odd image on the surface of the water.

Harry attempted to shift back to human, Sirius told him that it might be difficult the first time. He grasped hold of his magic, and allowed the energy to flow through him. Instead of turning back, he felt reenergized, as if he could run for days. He tried again, and the fur receded, his bones shrank and repositioned themselves.

The loss of senses came as a shock to Harry. He couldn't smell anything now, just the mixture of all the scents he could identify just a moment ago. The sounds were also so minute, he couldn't hear anything it seemed like.

Harry felt for his magic, and found the primal side of it. He knew that in just a moment's notice, he could shift back to his lupine form. He could become a hunter again.

Harry entered the Burrow through the backdoor. Bill nodded in his direction, acknowledging his presence. Looking for Hermione, Harry walked through most of the house. The only rooms he hadn't checked so far were Ginny's and the master bedroom. He knocked on Ginny's closed door, quietly asking permission to enter.

Hermione's muffled voice told him to come in. Where Harry expected her eyes to be bloodshot and puffy, they were clear. "Why didn't you defend me?" Her question was only simple in its' complexity.

"Because Remus was speaking his mind. It doesn't mean I agree with what he says, but it was probably something you needed to hear. He's right though, you do simply quote from books, and if you don't have an answer to a question, you look for it in a book. You hardly ever take the time to think something through before you look for the answer in the library."

"Your notes are similar. You simply write down everything the professor says, whether it's important or not. That makes them hard to read and unnecessarily long."

Hermione's gaze held anger similar to Ron's. "But you still didn't help me. You didn't say anything to Professor Lupin. You didn't try to comfort me." Tears started to pool in her eyes. "You acted as if it didn't bother you. You only have two friends Harry! How can you let someone treat one of them like that?"

For the second time in under an hour, Harry's instincts flared dangerously. He could feel the wolf trying to take over again, but he quashed it harshly. His voice however, carried the same dangerous quality that he used against Ron. "That's rich. You say I should have comforted you? How exactly did you comfort me when I killed Quirrel? How did you comfort me when I met the shade of Voldemort? How did you comfort me when my chance at a home with my godfather was ripped from me? You didn't. You thought only of yourself and your precious grades. I meant nothing when compared to your marks in transfiguration."

"I do have other friends Hermione. You need to take a step back and look at yourself. You're overbearing and bossy, the bookworm of Hogwarts. You say I only have two friends? As untrue as that is for me, it is true for you. Ron and I are the only ones who are willing to put up with you. I have been receiving mail this year. I've been waiting a month and a half for a single letter from you. I never got one, it was as if you didn't care. So, until you show me that you do care, I won't."

"You're too bossy for the Ravenclaws. You're too overbearing for the Hufflepuffs. You're unwillingness to let go of your muggle background prevents you from even being near the Slytherins." Harry advanced on Hermione, closing the gap between them. "Lavender and Parvati can't stand you, Seamus and Dean think you're annoying, and you frighten Neville."

"Face it Hermione, you need to change. I will not remain friends with someone who says what you just did. I will not allow you to boss me around anymore. I am my own man, and I will not be cowed by you."

"Until you apologize for your words, we are through."

Harry walked away from Hermione. He turned his back on her, and walked through the door to Ginny's room. He knew the things he said were harsh, and he knew he just completely broke any possibility of friendship with Hermione, but he said what he needed to say. He felt free, and relieved. It had been a long time since Harry let as much emotion off of his chest as he just did. Harry walked to the family room to speak with Charlie some more. He ran into Ginny on his way.

What he just said about comfort rang loudly in his ears. "Ginny. Wait."

The freckled girl turned around, and looked at him.

"I'm sorry I never asked you this before, but how are you?" His tone made it abundantly clear what he was talking about.

The girl wrapped her arms around herself. "I still have nightmares, and I have these impulses…" She shuddered. "But I'm managing. I think I'll just have to manage for the rest of my life."

Harry couldn't accept that. He saved her life, he wasn't going to allow her to just 'manage'. "Have you tried occulmency?"

She shook her head. "No. What is that?"

"It's a mental magic. It is used for repelling unwanted visitors from your mind."

Ginny quietly interrupted, "It's too late for that."

Harry grimaced, his word choice had been less than stellar. "It is also used for organizing your mind, for things like studying and effectively recalling information. But, in this case, it is possibly the best way to deal with trauma."

Ginny was pensive for a moment, but she finally smiled, it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you for the concern. I understand you not talking about it sooner, I mean, you did kill a basilisk and fight Voldemort."

Harry smiled at her use of the feared name.

"If he's invaded my mind, I think I'm entitled to speak his name." She grinned, it was predatory and malicious. "Besides, it makes Ron shake."

Harry laughed, he knew he probably wasn't ever going to be friends with Hermione again, but he didn't know about Ron.

Several hours later, after talking with Charlie about the various dragons on the preserve, Harry drifted into a deeply restful sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm just going to put this out there, I don't like bashing fics. They take so much out of the story by wasting time needlessly harping on about evil Hermione/Ginny/Ron/Dumbledore are that they don't spend time building other relationships. That being said, I will not make this into one of those stories, I will have various people chew other characters out, but I won't re-visit the same issue every single chapter. If anything, once a character gets bashed, they'll fade into the background because I don't like them.**

**This is Fanfiction, so please stop telling me how to write my story, I will write this the way I want to, and take it in the direction I want to. Please, please, give constructive critisizim, this is after all my first story. Please DO NOT tell me what to do or what not to do.**

**Thank you for reading and listening to me rant. Enjoy the chapter, just a bit early. Please leave reviews and I apologize for my mistake with Grindewald in the last chapter, I assure you, I know he went to Durmstrang, my brain just kind of went "I need a Dark Lord. Oh! Grindewald!" I have since changed it to Morgana LeFay. If you're reading this now, after I fixed that mistake, I'm not perfect.**

**Thank you all for your interest in my story.**

* * *

Harry awoke to someone shaking his shoulder. "Come on Harry, it's time to get up." Mrs. Weasley's warm voice floated over him. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Harry slowly sat upright.

"I've made breakfast for you all, it's on the table. I'm going to go wake everyone up."

Harry slowly made his way into the kitchen, his footsteps were small, but his feet didn't drag. The delicious aroma of the bacon made its way to Harry's nose, and he let out a content sigh.

Mr. Weasley was sitting alone at the table, his plate piled with a little bit of everything his wife made. He was holding his head with both hands, his receding hair was pushed back even further.

"Hullo Mr. Weasley." Harry said, the sound seemed alien in the early hour.

Mr. Weasley raised his head, his pale blue eyes were mostly covered by his drooping eyelids. "Hi Harry." The Weasley patriarch cracked a genuine smile. Harry had been concerned what the man's opinion of him might be after the day before.

"Between you and me, getting up at this ungodly hour is ridiculous, but if you could tell everyone that it's a great time and that we're very lucky to have it, I'd be most grateful."

Harry chuckled softly, the predawn air seemed to protest any sounds. He looked at the wall clock, and saw that it was barely past four in the morning. "Ungodly is right, why are we up so early?"

"We need to be clear across town at Six Fifteen. Knowing my family, we'll need to do some last minute packing, so I've simply accounted for that." The older man dug into his food with a gusto Harry had only seen from Ron. When he came up to breathe a couple of minutes later, he spoke again. "I also didn't want Hermione and Ron to get up and have to be out here before you. Your words yesterday were not kind." He held up a hand to stall Harry's comments. "Unkind, but what needed to be said."

Harry smiled and started eating, expelling the breath he wasn't aware he was holding. As a man who had raised many children, and most were great people, Arthur Weasley's opinion meant a lot to Harry.

Fred and George, identical to the last freckle, descended the stairs together, their arms were thrown over each other's shoulder. One of them yawned, and the other looked to the couch for Harry. The one on the left made eye contact with Harry, and both twins started walking to the table.

After sitting down and filling their plates, an oddly synchronized task for the early hour, one of them finally spoke. "Brilliant show yesterday mate. You said what needed to be said, and you didn't allow for whining."

The other twin nodded, and spoke through a full mouth. "Ruddy good. Everyone in Gryffindor is tired of Hermione's nagging, maybe you'll have curbed it."

Harry identified the second one to speak as George, he was better at pronouncing words with food in his mouth. The young teen nodded, and Remus's statement about their skill earlier in the summer came back to him.

"Guys, I have a proposition for you."

Both twins looked up from their food, wearing identical eager grins. "What is it?"

"What izh eet?"

"Over the summer I have been living with Remus Lupin, as I'm sure you deduced yesterday." Harry got identical nods. "As a professor, he wasn't impressed by you. He thought you slacked off too much, and didn't put enough effort into your work."

The twins looked slightly abashed, and avoided their father's gaze.

Harry continued after a second. "As Moony of the Marauders, he was unimpressed by your pranks."

The sausage in George's mouth fell out, piece by piece. The pumpkin juice in Fred's mouth also ended up across the room, after a perfectly performed, non-rehearsed spit take. They spoke in unison. "Professor Lupin was a Marauder!?"

Harry chuckled, having achieved the intended results of his proclamation. "Yes. Moony, as in the full moon; He was unimpressed by your work. He thought that you displayed a shallow knowledge of magic, and an over reliance on gag items. Your spellwork was sloppy, and your pranks seemed to be only half thought through."

Harry held up a hand, forestalling any retorts. "But I am willing to help you better yourselves. This summer I have lived with, and participated in a prank war between, Padfoot and Moony. I have also discovered that I am the son of Prongs."

The twins wore identical looks of awe. "How can you help us?"

"By being the invisible ringleader to your two man war team. This year, when I need a big prank done, you two will be the first I call. Make no mistake, there _will_ be big pranks this year, and we _will_ rock the foundations of Hogwarts. Can I count on you to help me at a moment's notice?"

"Bloody hell, of course you can Harry!" Fred spoke first, George still seemed to be in shock.

Mr. Weasley laughed, it echoed through the small dining room. "I haven't seen anyone render either of my twins speechless in a long time Harry. Good job." He dabbed at his face with his napkin. "Out of curiosity, is Padfoot Sirius Black?"

Harry nodded, assuming that Ron told his family what happened at the end of the last year.

"Has he heard anything about Pettigrew?"

Harry shook his head. "No, he's in the wind. Sirius has gotten reports of him going to Albania, Spain, and even Siberia. We have no idea where he is, or what contacts he might have."

"If he's smart he won't ever come back. The chances of him being seen are too high now. Fat grey rat, no finger on his right forepaw, and a bald spot behind his left ear." Fred was reasoning it out. "We've already told all of our friends, minus a few details. I doubt he can survive without any kind of help; he was a pitiful pet for Perce and Ron. He would only sleep and eat." George nodded.

Shuffling feet alerted Harry that someone was on their way downstairs. Harry shifted his attention to the staircase and saw Ron, the boy's eyes widened, but he quickly recovered and walked to the table, sitting as far away from Harry as possible.

Hermione and Ginny followed soon after, with Hermione sitting next to Ron, and Ginny sitting next to Harry.

The people at the table ate in a groggy silence. Ron and Hermione shot furtive glances at Harry, and Ginny looked exasperated at both of them.

Harry decided that enough was enough. "I'm going outside for a while, all my things are already packed in my trunk, just yell from the door and I'll be able to hear you."

Mr. Weasley nodded to Harry, and looked ready to speak to his youngest son.

* * *

Harry found himself standing at the reflective pool once again. He dipped his hand in and brought some cool water to his mouth. The liquid was sweet, and coursing with power, a side effect of the extreme amount of ambient magic that the Weasley family disperses.

Harry dug into himself and found his core. In adition to his normal magic, he felt a separate power, one that was primal. Harry grasped that power and willed it to flow through him, to change him.

The effects were instantaneous. His spine grew, and fur covered his body. The transformation was not slow like the first time, it was done in less than a minute. Harry looked into the mirror pond, and saw the wolf staring back at him. His own gaze was intense and focused.

Harry tested his hearing, he tried to listen to everything. He heard the woodlice in the trees, he heard the heartbeat of the birds in their nests, he heard everything for miles. He heard Mr. Weasley telling Ron to grow up. He could even hear as more bacon was placed on the stove by Mrs. Weasley.

Satisfied, Harry tested his sense of smell. He sniffed the air around him, and found a scent he couldn't identify.

Harry shot into motion, racing between trees and jumping over roots. He nearly flew across the ground in pursuit of the unknown smell. His inner wolf delighted in the chase, it loved the feeling of playing. Harry's tongue lolled out of his mouth, drops of drool fell from it as he ran.

All too soon, Harry found the origin of the scent. A niffler had just come to the surface to eat some of the dew off of a large rock. The poor creature found itself under the careful scrutiny of one of the most dangerous predators on the planet.

Delighted to have found what he was looking for, Harry decided to stop tormenting the creature. He let out a puff of air blowing on the Niffler's fur, and he raced off toward the next unknown smell.

For the next hour, Harry ran around the Weasley's orchard at full speed, allowing the wind to fly through his fur, and appeasing his animal mind. All too soon, Mr. Weasley yelled from the porch that it was time to come in. Harry raced to the edge of the orchard, just out of sight, and transformed. The lack of senses came as a shock to Harry once again, but he kept his face impassive.

"Harry, we're leaving now, is there anything you need last minute?" Mr. Weasley's kind face was more worn than Harry had ever seen. The man was not accustomed to berating his children, and some of the things Harry heard could not have been easy for a parent to say.

"I just need to get my bag from my trunk and I'm ready."

Mr. Weasley nodded, thankful that Harry's packing habits were not similar to his own children's.

In just a couple of minutes the Weasley family, plus Hermione and Harry, were on their way to the World Cup.

"Harry mate,"

"What kind"

"Of pranks"

"Did Moony,"

"And Padfoot"

"Pull this summer?"

The twins had situated themselves on each side of Harry, forcing him to turn his head to look at each when they spoke.

"Oh you know, antigravity, magical locking spheres, and transmutation. The simple stuff." Harry smiled at the dumbstruck expressions of not just the twins, but Hermione as well. All three stood stock-still as the rest of the family kept walking. Ginny just looked confused, as if there was a great puzzle she needed to figure out.

Mr. Weasley looked back and laughed. "You got the twins twice today alone, Harry I think that's a new record." The man thought for a moment, then spoke again. "However, I knew Lord Black in the last war. Transmutation wasn't his forte, your father though… Lord Potter could turn a house into a bear with just a few well-placed runes and angles. He could make a steam engine into a basilisk, and a muggle automobile into an eagle."

"A steam engine into a basilisk?" Harry couldn't close his mouth, he had been told the principles of transmutation, and that seemed impossible.

"Yes. The Hogwarts Express. He got every death eater following it though. There were only about a dozen, but he was furious that they would not only target Hogwarts, but the defenseless students on the train. I have it on good authority he only slept for eighteen hours after that." The man shook his head, obviously still in awe. "He said later that the magic around and in the train allowed him to do it, and the killing gaze only stunned, but the fear factor of a several hundred foot long basilisk would do anyone in."

Ginny nodded, and Mr. Weasley put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry Gin, that was callous of me, I should have realized."

Ginny shook her head. "No, it was interesting. I want to learn a bit about transmutation now, I know more than anyone but Harry just how dangerous a Basilisk is. I also have a whole new respect for Harry's father."

"That wasn't Harry's father. That was Lord Potter, two masks the same man wore. James was a kind man, his eyes were always full of mischief. Lord Potter was cold as ice, and hard as iron. James Potter left before every fight of the war. Lord Potter came before every one, his mastery of Transmutation and Transfiguration were nothing short of incredible."

"Lady Potter was the same, she would take cover behind her husband's magic, and release some of the most powerful hexes I've ever seen. I don't know what most of the spells she used were, and I don't think I want to. She didn't fight very often, but when she did, I wouldn't want to be on the other side."

Hermione's voice spoke from the back of the group. "She used dark magic?"

Harry spoke before Mr. Weasley got the chance to placate the bushy haired witch. "Yes. She used dark magic. In war it is kill or be killed, so she learned everything she could from my dad and Sirius. None of them were slouches in combat magic."

Hermione huffed, but said nothing else. For several minutes, the group walked in silence to the hill with the portkey on it. It often seemed like either Ron or Hermione were going to say something, but they remained silent.

A chill swept from a northerly wind, and Harry subtly turned and started sniffing it, without being in wolf from he couldn't really smell any better than he could a month before, but Sirius said that with practice, he could lessen one of his other senses to enhance another. Harry didn't smell anything on the wind, he just felt the cool air go up his nose and tickle. No one noticed the odd behavior.

Soon after, the group reached the hill they were supposed to be at, and saw another family there.

"Hello Arthur!" A man's voice called, he was tall and balding, with his son at his side.

"Hello Amos, Cedric, how are you this morning?" Harry recognized the boy as the soon to be seventh year Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory.

"I am doing quite well! The World Cup, Arthur, I'm so excited! We've had these tickets for months now. When did you get yours?" Amos Diggory was an easily excitable man it seemed.

Mr. Weasley scratched the back of his head and looked to the ground. "I've only had them for a month or so. I just asked Ludo for ten and he gave them to me, he owes me a couple of favors."

Mr. Diggory's face registered confusion, then comprehension. "Ah, I wasn't aware that you're on first name basis with Mr. Bagman. That is a very good contact to have! You're teaching your sons well. My boy here has his own contacts all lined up. He is after all the only person who has ever caught a snitch before Harry Potter."

Cedric shuffled his feet. "Dad, he was attacked by dementors and fell a hundred feet from his broom. It doesn't really count."

Mr. Diggory waved off his son's comments. "Yes, but you caught it and he didn't, hmm? That just goes to show that you're better."

Cedric's face registered otherwise, but he held his tongue. He looked Harry in the eye and mouthed the word 'sorry'. Harry just shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Say, Arthur, what was the portkey again?"

"This old boot." Mr. Weasley was holding a disgusting, smelly boot. "Everyone grab hold, the portkey will go off in thirty seconds." Everyone clambered to get close enough to touch the boot. Harry had to squeeze between the twins to put a finger on the thing.

At six seventeen exactly, the boot glowed blue, and everyone on the hill disappeared in a swirl of color.

* * *

Harry was hoping that with the twins on either side of him would keep him propped up. He was painfully mistaken. After landing in a heap on the ground at the World Cup, Harry came to his bearing to find the armpit of one twin in his face, and someone's foot under his throat.

"Six Seventeen from Ottery St. Catchpole." Harry tried to see who was talking, but it was impossible with the twin's armpit covering his eyes. Whoever the shoe belonged to was trying to move it, and digging the toe into Harry's Adams apple.

"Whoever –hurk- is trying to –guh- move their foot, stop." Harry's words carried at least, and the foot stopped wiggling.

"Sorry Harry." Came Cedric's abashed reply.

Slowly, the weasleys began to extract themselves from the pile. Ginny landed on the top, and she helped Ron up. The two of them helped either Fred or George, and the other twin got his brother. Eventually everyone was standing, and slightly bruised. There were two wizards in front of him, one in magenta robes, eerily similar to Lockharts' and another wearing simple black robes.

"Diggorys and Weasleys, from the hill east of Ottery St. Catchpole. That you?" The man in black robes asked.

Various forms of the word yes were heard coming from the large group.

"Go right on the path here," The man pointed to the stone path behind him. "And forward about one hundred meters. There will be a man standing in front of the cottage with your placement map. Now move along, you're standing where the Six Thirty-Two group will portkey in."

Mr. Weasley separated his group from Mr. Diggory. "I'm sorry, I really just don't like to spend more time with Amos than necessary."

Harry had a private smile. Mr. Weasley always seemed so unflappable, it was nice to know there was a man he didn't like. As the group walked on the path, Harry looked around. His eyes were catching the movements of people, but it was made hard to see by the fog.

"Harry, oldest chap,"

"Whatever happened,"

"To your glasses?"

Fred and George's speak was easier now that they weren't on either side of Harry. "The goblins broke a blockup of ocular magic, at the same time they dealt with my scar."

One twin nodded while the other spoke. "Ah, yes. I noticed you looked less ugly, that scar was a nasty shade of red for you."

"Rather like a giant, permanent, pimple." The second twin stated. The girls gagged, and Harry laughed.

"I've never thought of it that way." He admitted.

"Well now you have." Said one twin, Harry just decided to assume it was Fred.

"And you won't be able to think of it any other way." George said.

As they approached the cottage the two wizards spoke of, George's words rang true. Harry couldn't stop thinking of his scar as a giant pimple. The image made Harry laugh.

"Arthur! Good to see you!" The older wizard standing in front of the cottage clapped Mr. Weasley on the back.

"Eugene, it's good to see you again. Do you know where we're supposed to be setting up?" Mr. Weasley smiled at the man, Harry figured that he was an old friend.

"Ah yes, it's in the southwestern quadrant, plot number 342." Eugene pointed out the location on a map he handed to Mr. Weasley. "This whole week has been thrilling. Witches and Wizards from all over the world have been coming and going. I'm rather certain I saw Nicolas Flamel even."

Harry's eyebrows drew together in confusion. Professor Dumbledore had said that the Flamel's had destroyed their philosopher's stone, so how was Nicolas walking around a quidditch game two years later?

The teen, who had been introduced to a lot of pranking over the summer, realized it was much the same thing that Sirius and Peter did. If everyone thought that the philosopher's stone was destroyed, they wouldn't search for it. Even if he did destroy it, the man could simply make another one.

Harry smiled as he saw that Hermione was still trying to figure it out.

"Arthur you wouldn't believe it. They were trying to get muggles to run this thing. I mean, really? The biggest gathering of magical folk in four years, and they tried to put muggles in charge. Thankfully the ministry shot that down right quick, else we would need the whole obliviator department and people to try and say the Irish or Bulgarians couldn't celebrate tonight, with the statute of secrecy and all."

"Oh, and your kids can use magic here. The underage magic limits have been revoked, not that it would do much good anyway, no way to tell which kids were casting magic."

Mr. Weasley nodded and agreed that that would indeed be very foolish. He then led them to the spot they were supposed to set up the tent, and insisted on doing it the muggle way. Half an hour later, and with much coaching from Hermione, the tent had been erected.

"Well, it's not much, but it'll do." Mr. Weasley gestured for the group to enter to tent. Harry was dubious as to how everyone could fit into such a small area. As he entered, he saw the tent was far larger on the inside than the outside.

"I love magic." He breathed.

Mr. Weasley smiled. "As much as I think muggles are ingenious, I agree. I couldn't imagine life without magic."

Ron and the twins went off to one of the bedrooms to sleep. Ginny sat down in a couch to read a book, and Hermione chose for herself a chair.

Harry walked around the tent. It had a kitchenette, a dining room, three bedrooms, and a living room. Harry's mind worked to comprehend the magicks powering the area. He looked around using his 'sight' and saw the intricate weaving of magic flowing above the rooms, but nothing beyond. He looked to the doorway, and saw the magics that made up the earth, and how they stopped at the tent.

"Are we in a pocket dimension?"

Mr. Weasley looked up from his bag that he was digging through. "How did you – oh, right, you have a sensor like Bill's. Yes, all wizarding tents are pocket dimensions. The best expanded trunks are too, and so is platform 9 ¾. We use them all the time, but most people don't figure it out that easily. Especially not muggleborns, or muggle raised."

"There are a few risks involved in using pocket dimensions, but for the most part they're safe. If all the magic in the world suddenly vanished, the dimension would collapse. There are other risks, but they've all been taken care of centuries ago. It's some of the most impressive magic, and most commonplace. Diagon Alley is a pocket dimension, you can only access it from certain areas. I'm certain that there are many in Hogwarts."

Mr. Weasley kept digging through his bag, looking for who knows what. After several minutes, Harry asked to see the map of the campsite.

"What for?"

"I want to see where my friend's tent is." Hermione's eyes shot to Harry, but the raven haired teen didn't notice.

"Oh, of course. I would prefer if you would wait until the others get here so that you're not wandering out alone." Mr. Weasley handed Harry the map. Being used to looking over the Marauder's map, finding the name Isabella Zabini was quite easy. Her plot was about half a mile north of the Weasley plot.

"Ok Mr. Weasley, I'll see if Charlie or Bill will go with me." Mr. Weasley nodded, and Harry brought a book out of his bag. There were still a couple hours before the older Weasleys would get there, or the shops would open. Harry's book was on the anatomy of a wolf, and the various magical breeds.

Harry was amazed by how many normal animals had magical counterparts. Wolves had dozens of magical breeds, bears had at least seven, and lions had upwards of seventeen. Few of each species exist, and only in certain areas, making gathering information, or things like fur, very difficult.

Thankfully, Dire Wolves were not very rare. The book said there were no packs in the United Kingdoms, but books also said that there no acromantulas in the Isles.

Harry and Ron knew that to be false, so Harry decided he would ask Hagrid if there were any Dires in the forbidden forest.

The book gave very little information about the wolves, only that some grew to be the size of Clydesdale horses, and they could run for over forty-eight hours without stopping. Harry figured that was the magical burst he gave himself when he tried to transform back the first time, he reenergized his body with his own magic.

Having already read everything about the Dire Wolves before, Harry decided to practice magic.

"Mr. Weasley, would you happen to have a lighter in that bag?"

The balding man looked through his bag once more, before handing Harry an ornate silver lighter. "What do you need it for?" The man's eyes were full of concern.

Catching on to the man's idea quickly, Harry defused the situation. "No, not for a cigarette, I want to try to do Sympathy, and magical fire doesn't work."

The man nodded and pulled out a couple pieces of parchment before handing them to Harry. "These are finished work orders, they need to burn anyway, and they're not sensitive, so this is a good thing." The papers seemed blank except for a blue Ministry sigil at the top. Harry assumed that there was a charm to keep him from seeing any documents.

Harry set one of the pieces of parchment on the ground, and held the other. He flicked the lighter on, and set it underneath the parchement he was holding. He willed the other one to burn as he did so, but it didn't.

Harry tried for a couple of hours to get the documents to burn each other, enough that his resonance shifted once to try to assist. Hermione had even tried to offer a couple of suggestions, but they were ineffective. He was glaring at the parchment on the ground when Bill walked through the tent's flap.

The curse breaker took note of the lighter in Harry's hand, and both pieces of parchment, and recognized what Harry was trying to do.

"Do you have any idea of what process you need Harry?"

Harry was startled by the sudden appearance of the tall redhead. "No, I just know the basics of Sympathy, and I was trying to get the pieces of parchment to burn each other."

Bill walked over and held out his hand for both the parchment and the lighter, which Harry gave over. "Luckily for you, I learned how to do this in fifth year. It requires a suspension of belief, and a held belief at the same time. You must be able to believe that this parchment," Bill waved the one he was holding. "And that parchment," Bill pointed at the one on the ground. "Are the same. You must also believe they are different. Once I understand that this is not that, but at the same time, believe that this _is_ that, then this happens."

Bill put the lighter to the bottom of the parchment, and it lit instantly. As the one in his hand burned, the one on the ground ignited as well. In a few short seconds, both were reduced to ashes.

"Sympathy is one of the most useful tools in my arsenal when I'm dealing with ancient traps."

Charlie had walked in behind Bill, and sat down on the couch next to Harry. "I've never been able to get it. Some people can't split their mind like Bill. It took him months to get the first link, but it's been easy ever since."

Bill shrugged, and spoke. "It's a useful skill, but it's not required for anything. Don't feel bad if you can't do it. I taught Percy, and I think that the twin's unique thought pattern rules out their ability to do it. Considering his skill at chess, I think that Ron could manage it easily."

"It's a rare magic, where did you learn the basics of Sympathy?"

"From my godfather. The sensor that I use is actually a modified gram, a tool to prevent someone from using malfeasance against me. In order to understand the effects the magic can have on me, he burned one of my hairs, and let me feel how dangerous the power could be to my enemies."

Bill's eyebrows rose. "First, what did it feel like? And second, why the hell did your own guardian cast illegal magic on you?"

Harry chuckled. "First, it felt like I was standing in the hot sun, rather than in a cool room with a breeze. Second, because it's possible Draco Malfoy might use it on me sometime, and I need to know what it feels like so I can know what I'm dealing with."

Harry was about to ask Charlie if he would walk with him to the Zabinis, but decided that since Blaise was thinking about being a curse breaker, Bill might be a better choice. "Hey, Bill, will you walk with me to my friend's tent plot? Your dad doesn't want me going alone, and my friend wants to know what kind of OWLs and NEWTs you got."

"Sure thing, this friend have a name?"

"I think I want to keep it a surprise." Harry felt he would enjoy seeing the look on Bill's face when confronted by the Black Widow of Italy.

Hermione huffed, and Bill chuckled. "Sure, do we need to bring a map?"

Harry held the map up in his hand. "I've got it."

Bill said goodbye to his family, and walked out with Harry. "You know, you're not at all what I expected. Last year, when everyone came to visit me in Egypt, Ron kept talking about you. He said you were shy and somewhat reclusive. That's not at all how you seem now."

Harry thought for a moment, he hadn't really noticed a change in his own demeanor. "Yeah, I guess so. Over the summer I've lived with my father's two best friends. I've learned a lot about my parents and who they were. I now know what they represented, and what they would do to meet their goals."

"I've also been a part of a pranking war between two of the Marauders, so it's somewhat hard to embarrass me now."

Bill's eyebrows rose. "The marauders? When I was in school there were still some people who attended with them. They sound crazy."

"They were. Two noble lords, a werewolf, and a pauper pureblood made for an interesting group of people. Especially when you throw in a genius muggleborn and a beautiful Slytherin."

Bill was counting on his fingers. "Ok, so I've got Lords Potter and Black, your defense professor from last year, Remus Lupin, Percy's pet rat, Peter Pettigrew, and Lily Evans. Who was the Slytherin?"

Harry smirked. "We're going to meet her now. I've never met her face to face, but I've heard enough stories that I feel like I know her. Just be warned, she's probably slightly insane, but innocent."

Harry checked the map again, he noticed that they were nearly there. "Please don't say anything stupid. For your own sake, this woman is one of the most intelligent and sarcastic people my uncle has ever met."

Harry walked up to the tent, it seemed to be made of a cream colored silk, and very expensive. Bill whistled and said something about 'Acromantula Silk'. Harry pushed the tent flap open a bit.

"It's Harry! Are you in there?"

A woman's voice floated to them. "Yes, but please wait a bit."

Harry and Bill waited for a moment, Harry took the time to look around. He saw a few people he recognized. There was a white peacock strutting around in front of a tent that had a coat of arms on the side. A large and flamboyant 'M' was painted on the white fabric. It wasn't hard to figure out the Malfoys were in that tent.

"Come on in." Isabella's voice was smooth and beautiful, like a gentle river.

Harry entered, and was dumbstruck by the wealth on display in the tent. Mr. Weasley's words from before drifted back 'When we get together, we like to show off'. The truth was evident in the décor of the tent. Early medieval weaponry was attached to the stone walls, and Persian rugs covered the floor. The single room of the tent Harry was standing in could pay for everything the Weasleys had ever owned.

Bill, having seen all sorts of treasure and rugs, was instead struck dumb by the perfect vision of Aphrodite standing before him. Instead of wearing the usual robes, Isabella wore a beautiful blue blouse, with a deep neckline highlighting her ample breasts. Her waist was thin, and her legs were long. She wore a golden belt around black trousers, and fancy, yet effective boots.

Isabella smiled at Harry. Her brown eyes twinkled warmly. "Sirius said you looked like James, but that is an understatement. If it wasn't for your eyes I would call you a doppleganger."

Harry smiled, "I get that a lot. Thanks for the invitation though Ms. -"

"No! You will call me Isabella, or Isa. I will not be called Ms. Zabini by you. Bella is out too, that was what Sirius called Bellatrix." Isabella smiled at the boy she hoped she would come to see as a nephew.

Bill, having regained at least a part of his senses looked between Isabella and Harry. "You said 'a beautiful Slytherin'. You said 'Intelligent'. You did not fucking say Isabella Zabini!"

Harry shrugged. "Would you say that she is not beautiful? She was a Slytherin, and she is very intelligent. I don't see what your big deal is." Harry smiled now, it was predatory and his eyes were full of mirth.

Bill, having realized he may have insulted one of the most feared women in the wizarding world, back peddled. "I meant no disrespect. Harry here seemed to think it was funny to do that to me."

Isabella smiled again, and shrugged. "It was funny, and it wasn't very disrespectful. And you did not answer his question. Do you think I am beautiful?" Isabella walked towards Bill with a bit more sway to her hips than necessary.

Bill smiled. He was no stranger to dealing with beautiful women. "No."

Isabella looked confused.

Bill spoke with a quiet intensity. "I think that beautiful doesn't even begin to describe you. Gorgeous might come close, but not quite there yet. I really think the only acceptable word might just be," Bill knelt and grasped her hand softly, and he dragged his lips across her knuckles. "Perfect."

Harry had never seen flirting done very well. The guys in Gryffindor were too forward, and if they were effective they were probably alone. Hogsmeade weekends don't really count either, as most people already have dates lined up to go. But Harry knew that Bill was obviously very good at flirting, and that Isabella was impressed.

Blaise had walked out of one of the hallways just before Bill's statement, and he clapped when the eldest Weasley brother was finished. "Very well done. I think that is deserving of at least an eight of ten."

Harry laughed at Blaise's statement, and Bill bowed. Isabella raised a perfectly manicured nail to her lips.

"No, you didn't see what I saw, it was perfectly executed. Well done, ten out of ten.

Blaise bowed his head in deference to his mother's judgement, and Bill bowed again, to applause from both Harry and Blaise. "My little brother had a friend in Hogwarts, and she made it her mission to get me to be a good flirt. She said, and I quote, 'Good looks like yours cannot be wasted. You will flirt with me, and you will gain skill.' At least once a week for the next year, she made me flirt with her. It wasn't hard, she was a metamorphmagus. She just made herself look like a supermodel."

Isabella laughed, to the surprise of her son. "Yes, rarely does a Black not get what they want."

Bill looked confused for a second. "How did you know who I was talking about?"

Isabella cocked her head. "You're not very smart, or just misinformed. I dated Sirius Black, and I was housemates with Andromeda Black. Nymphadora Tonks is the only Metamorphmagus in the world. It's rather easy to figure it out. And I doubt that I am wrong here, but are you William Arthur Weasley?"

Bill was confused again. "Yes, I am, but how did you know that? Italy is pretty far from Britain, and how do you know that Tonks is the only Metamorph?"

"Your reputation precedes you, and the fact that I already knew Harry was attending the game with your family. I know that Tonks is the only one because Sirius told me. Your bravery is admirable, most people would have run out of my tent rather than flirt. They're afraid I will ensnare them in my web, and kill them." Isabella made reference to her famous moniker, Italy's Black Widow.

"In the past few months I have learned that Peter Pettigrew is alive and was my brother's pet rat. I've learned that my brother's favorite defense professor is a werewolf, and that Sirius Black is innocent. Harry said you were innocent as well, and I'm inclined to believe him."

"Besides, I don't think you could possibly have killed all of your husbands. You couldn't have gotten away with it after how the government was watching you after your fifth one died."

"Remarkably well reasoned, good job." Blaise spoke from where he was leaning against the wall.

Bill shrugged. "Critical thinking is, pardon the pun, a critical portion of my job. I just don't let it get locked into only doing my job."

Blaise started asking about being a curse breaker, and Isabella pulled Harry off to the side of the room. "Have you made any progress on your animagus?"

"I finished it yesterday. Ron made me angry enough that the instincts broke through."

Isabella's eyes lit up. "Can I see it?"

"I have no problem with it if we can get away from Bill."

Isabella walked over to Blaise and Bill and said something that Harry couldn't hear. The two soon left the tent.

"I told them that we needed some water. The pump is about one hundred meters away, and has a line, so they'll be gone for a while."

Harry nodded and stood in the center of the room, for the second time that day he willed himself to change. Quickly, Harry Potter disappeared, and a giant black wolf stood in his place. Harry's shoulders were a bit above Isabella's head.

Isabella's eyebrows rose, but only slightly. "Sirius said that you might go straight into a magical creature. When he and James made the transformation they used an ordianary inscriber, when you did it you used the wellspring, correct?"

Harry nodded, it was a strange sight. Isabella ran her hands along both of Harry's sides. She gently held his tail, and felt his muscles.

"I've never seen a Dire Wolf, and if I had I doubt it would have been so well behaved. This is remarkable. Your fur is so soft. I expected it to be coarse."

Isabella spent some more time looking at him, and measuring everything before she told him to change back. This time there wasn't as much to listen to or smell, the pocket dimension of the tent was rather plain in those regards, so Harry wasn't as shocked by the lack of stimuli. When Isa finished with him, he shifted back to human.

"You are five foot eleven inches tall at the shoulder, and your head easily clears six eight if you raise it. Your teeth are five inches long at the longest, and you have a pale patch of fur just above your right eye, the same spot as your scar." Isabella wrote everything down on a piece of parchment.

"Would you be willing to let have a copy of your personal Sigil? Everything here will be used by myself, Sirius and Remus to come up with your nickname." Isabella smirked. "Lily was Tigress, it shouldn't be hard to figure out why."

"I was, and still am according to Sirius, Vixen." She smiled, something she had been doing more frequently since she started talking to Sirius again.

She got up from her chair, and looked at the door before transforming into a red fox. She looked at Harry before transforming back.

Harry smiled and extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you face to face, Vix."

Isa grasped the hand lightly, and did a small curtsey. "It's very nice to see you finally. I was taken from Sirius before you were born."

"Can I ask a personal question? You don't have to answer."

Isa nodded and sat down.

"Did you kill the man who took you from Padfoot?"

Isabella's eyes widened and she looked down at her lap. Her hands were intertwined with each other. "Yes. But not because of that."

"Why then?"

Isabella's eyes had tears pooling in them. "It was three days after Blaise was born. I was still tired, and Damien was supposed to be taking care of him." Isabella hiccupped, and buried her face in her hands. "Blaise had been crying, and I wanted to see what was going wrong. I walked in on Damien holding his wand to Blaise's bum. The tip was burning."

Harry gasped, he knew that child abuse happened, sure. But he never expected it to happen to a three day old baby.

"I snapped. I drew my wand and cast a curse, I didn't even know what it was until the healer told me his organs had been dissolved."

"It took me four months to get out of that house. Damien had put so many enchantments on me and the house that I couldn't break them all. No one was very concerned about not hearing from him. The man was universally hated, and he had a baby to be looking after."

"When I finally got out, the war in Britain was so bad that I couldn't cross the border, the national wards had been erected to keep foreigners out of the country. Damien had stripped me of my British citizen status, so the wards kept me out as well. By the time the wards had fallen, Sirius was in Azkaban, James and Lily were dead, and everyone I knew was gone."

"I stayed in Italy, with my father until I found love again." She shook her head, "No, not love, but as close as I could come."

"Husband after Husband died, and I thought I was cursed for killing Damien."

"I didn't know that someone else had been killing my husbands until one was thrown in Azkaban for the very crime that alerted Sirius to my innocence."

Harry didn't know what to say. Everything he could think of seemed so shallow, so contrite. His curiosity won him over though. "Why were you with Damien to begin with?"

Isabella laughed. It was the most hollow, most cold laugh Harry had ever heard. "He saved my life, and immediately called in a life debt. I was bound to him, fully and completely. The only difference between me and a house elf is that he didn't rape his elves. At least I don't think he did. It's the only thing that kept me with him. I thought that the deaths of my husbands were retribution for killing him, magic works in odd ways" She began to weep openly. Harry supsected that she rarely, if ever, allowed herself to relive that memory.

Harry sat with his arm around her shoulder as Isabella cried. It would have made for an amusing scene had it not been so grievous. The-Boy-Who-Lived, comforting Italy's Black Widow as she cried.


	7. Chapter 7

When Blaise Zabini and Bill Weasley strode into Isabella Zabini's tent, they didn't expect to find Isabella weeping into Harry's shoulder, nor did they expect him to be as calming to her as he was. Bill went to stand outside.

"It's ok Isa, You're ok." Harry pushed her away a little bit so he could look into her eyes. "Sirius can't wait to go and take you out to dinner. You two are going to eat, drink, and talk until it seems as though neither of you ever left. He's going to welcome you back, and you're going to dance in the moonlight."

"But-"

"No. You and Sirius will be as happy together as you were before. You're going to fall in love with each other all over again. I know him, and I'm starting to know you."

"My other husbands all died-"

"I'd like to see them try and attack Lord Black on his own property. It'd be a fool's gambit for which they would pay with their lives."

Isabella wiped at her eyes, and gave a watery smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You can't know that Harry."

"You're right. I can't. I am not a seer, but I can see the obvious signs. You two have a shot, and I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to help you."

Blaise sat on the couch on the other side of his mother from Harry. "Mama, he's right. You're more alive this summer than I've ever seen you. If Sirius Black can make you this alive from a couple of measly letters, you two need to be together."

Isabella smiled, and it reached her eyes. She put her arms over her son and Harry and hugged them both. "Thank you, both of you."

"I need some time alone, how about you two go out and meet some friends, spend some money, let me be." Blaise nodded, and Harry got off the couch. After giving his mother another hug goodbye, Blaise went to grab some money and they headed out.

"Begging for money Weasley? At least you know where to start." Blaise and Harry heard Lucius Malfoy's sneering voice taunting Bill.

"No, actually my mother invited him Mr. Malfoy." Blaise spoke to the white haired man.

"Is she so desperate that she will sully herself with the likes of him? I am always available to her, she should know that." The man's sneer was so prominent that Harry was sure it was practiced in front of a mirror.

"Sully Mr. Malfoy? I am quite certain I don't understand. This man is the very one who broke the seal on the Sphinx's inner tomb. He is a world renowned curse breaker. Tell me Mr. Malfoy, what do you have that is greater than Bill?" Blaise wore an iron mask. No emotion could be read from his face.

Lucius Malfoy looked at Bill appraisingly. "He is a Blood-Traitor. I at least know where our society should go."

"Ruin, Death, and anarchy? Those are not good things for a society Mr. Malfoy." Harry wore a mask of his own. He spoke as Heir Potter, and everyone could see it. "You speak of killing muggleborns and muggles but without them, our society would fall. The ruination of our government would come from so few people left in our world that are considered parts of the old families."

"Death would come as the Muggleborns riot. They will break down your wards and rape your wife, they will destroy your family manor and they will burn your bones."

"Anarchy would be the state of things once all purebloods are dead, and from anarchy would raise armies to fight each other. These armies would kill one another until all magic folk are dead."

"Then everything would start again. Muggles would give birth to wizards, and wizards would give birth to more wizards. Magic folk would rise again, and history would repeat itself."

Harry stared hard into the eyes of the corrupt pureblood. "Your plan for our society would see us in ruin. I will ensure that none of your schemes come to pass. The Harry Potter that foiled you two years ago is dead. I am Heir Potter, and Heir Black. I am the future head of your wife's family. I should not be taken lightly." Harry's eyes were as cold as ice. "Apologize to Bill."

Harry wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't for the older wizard to laugh. "That was cute Potter." He walked away, not slowly, nor quickly. He simply walked as would be comfortable.

Bill broke the silence that had fallen. "Well I thought it was impressive."

Blaise nodded. "So did he. He just got angry rather than scared. His grip on his cane strengthened considerably." He looked Harry in the eye. "Well done. I think we're going to get along very well Potter."

Harry smirked. "Yes, I think we will at that Zabini."

Bill, Blaise, and Harry walked for a while, taking in the sights of all the witches and wizards showing off to one another. "Your mum is nothing like what I expected Blaise."

Blaise nodded, eating from cotton candy he got from a vendor. "Most people have the wrong idea about her. She's not cold or callous, she's just very withdrawn. Today was the most expressive I've ever seen her. My father stole her from her friends, and everyone she cared about. Just now is she getting some of those things back, and Harry is one of them."

Harry nodded. "Padfoot was planning on asking her to marry him, which would have made her my Godmother. It makes sense for me to be helpful for her, I represent a significant portion of what she lost."

Bill was lost in thought, and Blaise was smiling. "When did you get so philosophical Harry?"

"Those were Remus's words not mine. I am not philosophical at all."

The three wandered around the campground for a couple hours, buying whatever caught their fancy, and talking to several familiar people. When the sun was high in the sky, Bill said it was time for Harry and him to go back to the Weasleys.

"I'm coming too."

Bill looked at Harry, and the direction of his family's tent. "I don't think that's a good idea Blaise."

"Bill, you yourself are a Weasley, and you just flirted with the Italian Black Widow. I think that I can manage your family."

"I think he was actually talking about Hermione." Harry corrected.

"What happened to Cap'n Bushworm?"

Harry sniggered, he had never heard her called that. "Bushworm?"

"Yes. Her bushy hair and her bookwormieness combined. Bushworm, I called her that first, and I think several 'Puffs do. I've heard a few of the older 'Claws say it.

Harry grinned, the name did fit. "I told her off yesterday. I am relatively sure that I permanently destroyed our friendship. Ron may get over what I said, but it would take time, and a lot of changes on his part."

Blaise shrugged. "I'm still coming."

"You're acting like a Gryffindor." Harry replied.

"And you're acting like a snake." Blaise came back.

"The hat wanted me in Slytherin. I argued for Gryffindor. What's your excuse?"

"My Mama raised me to be like Sirius, I think. It just so happens that he is a Gryffindor, and a prankster." Blaise smiled. "I've also heard that Sirius Black was quite the ladies' man, so we've got that in common."

Harry put his hand to his chin. His eyes adopted a contemplative look. "No, We've been walking for hours, and not a single person has run screaming. I think you're doing much better than Padfoot."

All three laughed, and set off for the Weasley's tent.

The Weasley's tent was a ragtag scrap of cloth in comparison to the Zabini's. It was frayed on the stitching and the enchantments on it wouldn't hold for much longer. There were pieces of patchwork all over it, and the colors didn't match. Harry smiled at the sight of it all the same, though he and Ron weren't speaking, he still had friends there.

To Harry's surprise though, Blaise looked at it with a smile as well, and Bill grumbled under his breath.

Bill noticed Harry's questioning gaze and explained. "I offered my tent. I have a very nice, very expensive one. Dad wouldn't hear of it, I think he's trying to get Ron to accept his lot in life and make him earn his own way. I don't think Ron has any idea of how much money I make, or how much Charlie makes."

Harry nodded, from what he'd heard from Mr. Weasley that morning as a wolf, it fit his character. "I agree. I think that if Ron knew, he would have mentioned it before."

Bill chewed that over. His gait, which had slowed and changed as he was visibly irritated, returned to being the normal, self-assured way he walked.

Without thinking, Harry stepped a few feet in front of the group. His return was quickly noticed by Hermione, who scowled at Blaise. Harry suppressed a small smile as he thought about the nickname that Blaise had coined for the bushy haired bookworm.

Ron looked towards the group, his mouth was full of something, sausage perhaps. It was obvious from his face that he recognized Blaise, but couldn't place him. The redhead's blue eyes turned toward Bill, who wore a cocky grin. His gaze finally settled on Harry.

The raven haired teen met his oldest friend's gaze easily. In his blue eyes, which had finally placed Blaise, was neither condemnation nor accusation. The boy's eyes were resigned, as if he had lost a great mental struggle just recently.

Harry expected that if Ron ever lost a chess match, that the look in his eyes later as he worked through the game would be similar to the one he wore now.

Ginny turned, her back was facing the group. She quickly registered the confusion, and acknowledged Blaise. Her brown eyes bored into Bill, analyzing him. Her eyebrow rose questioningly, and Bill nodded.

"Harry, why are you with the snake?" The acid in Hermione's voice surprised Harry.

Before he could come to his new friends defense, the teen worked his way in front of Hermione. "Perhaps," Blaise's voice was full of malice. "If you were a better friend, you would know. The fact that you do not know that Harry and I have been conversing all summer implies that you are not on the list of people that he confides in."

Harry walked around to look at the expression on his new friend's face, and was surprised to see anger.

Blaise continued. "You had a friendship with Harry Potter, one of the most influential and wealthy people in wizarding Britain, and you let it rot. You threw it away, and let it fester over the summer. I would not give you the chance he has." Blaise leaned closer to the bushy haired girl. "You have an opportunity to redeem yourself. Do not waste it by insulting the friends he has made, or the allies he will continue to make."

Blaise rose to his full height, he was taller than Harry and rather intimidating. "You have one use to him Granger. You were a friend when he needed one, your ability to maneuver in a library can be matched. Your intelligence is doing nothing but hampering him."

Harry didn't argue with Blaise, even though he knew the main thing standing before his ability to learn was the curse scar. Hermione's overbearing atmosphere made him want to not even study, she was simply too pushy.

"This summer he has mastered the third year runes, and third year arithmacy. He has been taught by our defense professor last year, and one of the greatest duelists this country has seen in centuries. The only thing you bring to the table now, is friendship. The only thing you've said to him since your conversation was to accuse him of who knows what, and to insult his friend. Now sit down, and shut up."

Harry was about to retort, to say something. Anything. Everyone around the small cooking fire was looking at him. Everyone but Hermione.

"You say you're his friend?" Her voice was deathly low. She fingered the end of her wand. "It was me who he saved from the troll. It was me who helped him get passed the Devil's Snare in first year."

She stood up, not intimidated by the italian's height anymore. "It was _me_ who figured out it was a Basilisk petrifying the students. It was _me_ who helped his godfather escape. _I_ have been with Harry this whole time. _Not_ you."

Blaise was surprised by the vehemence with which the witch spoke. The girl was shorter than him, but was honestly intimidating.

Blaise was surprised, but not impressed. "Yes, you did do all that." The Italian's eyes burned with rage.

"You did figure out the Basilisk, you did figure out the Devil's Snare, whatever that means, and you did help free Sirius." He spoke as lowly as Hermione, with just as much intensity. "But, _I_ sent the healing potions that rebuilt Harry and Sirius's bodies. _I _sent the course work for Runes and Arithmacy. _I _have helped him all summer. _You_ have let your friendship take a backseat to whatever life you've lived this summer."

Harry stepped between the two. He looked them both in the eyes, first Hermione, then Blaise. "Knock it off, both of you. Blaise, if you came over here just to insult Hermione, that was low."

"Hermione, Blaise was out of line with what he said. _However,_" The stress Harry put on the word was significant. "He was correct, in a way. You need to change. You both proved you were petty, Hermione first, then Blaise." Harry looked between the two, Hermione's face showed confusion, and Blaise showed a slight bit of regret.

"You both tried to quantify your friendships with him." It wasn't Harry that spoke, nor was it Ron, the one who thought most strategically. It was Ginny.

"Tom did the same thing to me through his Diary, he quantified our friendship. He made himself seem more like a valuable friend than any of my roommates." Ginny's eyes carried nothing but harsh rebuke.

"Hermione attacked, and Blaise retaliated in kind." Ginny stood and pointed a finger into the older girl's chest. "_You_ were out of line. You wanted to make yourself seem valuable to Harry. You're not. He made that clear last night. You abandoned him when he needed a shoulder to cry on. You have done nothing to ease his pain."

Hermione looked shocked. Her eyes shifted between Harry and Ginny. The younger girl did nothing but laugh mirthlessly. Her eyes turned a shade darker.

"The walls in the Burrow are thin Hermione. I heard your entire conversation last night. Think hard about what I've said. Harry will, and now, I've just equated you to Voldemort. You'll need to work hard to get past that."

Harry was shocked. In Gryffindor, all the girls had a code to watch each other's backs. Ginny just broke that code to pieces and danced on the remains. Harry wanted to intervene, but he felt that Ginny needed to let off some steam, and now as good of a time as any.

Hermione sat down, clutching her head. It seemed she could handle the pressure of dealing with both Harry the night before, and Blaise then, but couldn't deal with the 'betrayal' of another Gryffindor girl.

Blaise looked at the young firecracker with admiration. Under his breath he muttered "Damn, cunning…"

Ginny flipped her long hair over her shoulder and turned to face Blaise. "I expected more from the house of cunning _Zabini_." She looked him hard in the eye. Her use of his surname was forcibly meant to remind him of who his mother was. "The hat wanted me in Slytherin you know, but if you're all the house has to show for itself, my talents would have been wasted. If this is not representative of Slytherin, you're just a waste of space."

Blaise reeled from the sting of Ginny's words. His mother's admonitions already played in his head. 'You were stupid.' She would say. 'You could have undermined her without looking like a villain, you could have spoken her into a corner to get your way.' Her eyes would show disappointment, something Blaise hated to see. She would tell him he was a part of the reason Slytherin had a reputation for the dark.

Blaise hung his head at Ginny's words. His shame was evident. The pureblood prince was defeated by a Blood-Traitor._ No, I was defeated by an intelligent witch, her status means nothing. _The wealthy young teen was totally and completely cut by the redhead's words.

"You're right."

Blaise's admission forced Hermione to raise her head. "I acted foolishly, and spoke as I should not have. I apologize for acting like I imagine my father would have. I'll be leaving now." Blaise stood upright once more, and forced his face to don a mask.

"Thank you for the conversation today Bill, it was most enlightening."

Bill nodded, he had been silent and still through the entire verbal sparring. "You're welcome."

The Italian nodded and began to return to his tent, when Bill called his name.

"Yes?"

"I broke its arse off." Bill smiled, it was small but what Blaise needed. The teen nodded in respect, and a good portion of humor, and walked away.

Harry looked at Bill as if he were insane.

"He asked me, before we saw you and Ms. Zabini having a tearfest, how I escaped the sphinx two years ago. I broke its' arse off."

Harry smiled, befriending Bill seemed to have been a good choice. _Is that how I think now? I weigh my friendships?_ Harry was conflicted by the internal struggles the idea posed. On one hand, he wanted friends who were simply friends. But on the other hand, his parents had trusted a friend, and they were now sleeping in whatever afterlife there was.

_With power comes the responsibility to use it properly. I need people I can depend on, my friends must prove themselves. Blaise has, it was displayed today, if a bit violently. Until people do, they won't get close to me._

Harry sat down, the conversation in the group turned toward the upcoming game, and very obviously avoided the confrontation that was just witnessed.

Ron sat still and quietly for a long time, before reluctantly joining the conversation. As the hours progressed, he became more animated, even arguing with Harry about the importance of the beater position.

Hermione was silent for the rest of the conversation. She would occasionally steal glances at Harry and Ron, but only occasionally. Her eyes completely avoided Ginny, acting as if the redhead didn't exist.

As the day turned to night, and the sun crested the horizon, brilliant white fires illuminated the grand stadium. Nestled in braziers that were above even the tallest of boxes, the fires provided enough light that the surrounding area turned from night to day.

Charlie whistled long and low, clearly impressed. "That's dragonfire. Its brilliance is hard to replicate. I want to meet whoever created or bottled it."

The stocky Weasley turned to his elder brother. "How do they keep the muggles from seeing something like that?"

Bill thought for a moment, his eyes scanning the air above and around them.

Harry's eyes joined Bill's, his sensor was active, and he noticed the pattern in the sky. But the flames drew his attention. The dance of the fire was hypnotic, and Harry began to sway. Though he was far away, the fire began to warm his core. It wasn't until Charlie nearly tackled him that he realized his flesh was smoking.

Charlie whistled again. "Now I really want to meet this guy. He created Primal Dragonfire."

Bill reached out his hands to lift Harry and Charlie up. "Whoever he is, he's good. His magic is in the fires, and in the wards around us. They're patterned after a leviathan's hide, and are meant to block any muggle from seeing anything magical happening inside them. Considering he made Primal Dragonfire, I have no doubt they'll work."

Bill looked at his family. From the looks on their faces, Harry and Hermione included, he and Charlie were the only ones who knew what he was talking about.

"Primal Dragonfire is one of the most powerful substances in the world. It, as you saw from Harry, is hypnotic and deadly. The Leviathan pattern in the wards is remnant of Atlantis." Bill explained, awe dripping from his voice.

"This guy is one of the best in the world. I've never seen fire like that, and only once have I seen a ward constructed this precisely. It was in a trench that Gringotts sends their cursebreakers to, it's a test that no one has ever completed."

Mr. Weasley looked to the sky, but without a sensor like his son's, he couldn't see anything. "Well, this is the World Cup. I don't think any expenses have been spared. The lighting of the fires indicates that it is time to go to our seats." The balding man stood, and glanced back at the fires. "Those are nice fires though."

Harry followed as Mr. Weasley walked to the top box. The young teen lagged behind to talk to Charlie.

"What would have happened if you didn't break me from the trance?"

The redhead shrugged. "I don't know. I thought the trance was a myth, since I've never been affected. By some accounts, you would have started to burn, like a sunburn, and broken out of it."

"And other accounts?"

"You would have burned to a crisp, or your magical core would have detonated. As much as I want to meet they guy who made the fires, he's got to be off his rocker. No way I would have endangered someone like he did." Charlie shook his head and muttered about the lack of sense in the magical world. It seemed that if someone could show off, they would, at no thought of the cost to others.

Harry walked in silence among the Weasleys. Ron spoke eagerly with Fred and George, debating the skill of the Bulgarian national team's beaters against those of the Irish.

Hermione and Bill were talking about the wards around the stadium, and how Bill knew so much about them.

Ginny walked also in silence. She was fully in control of the silence around her though, it seemed to obey her will.

This new Ginny startled Harry. She spoke with resolve, she met the eyes of those above her, and she hadn't stammered once in Harry's presence. She had changed from the first couple of times Harry had met her.

_So would you, _he thought, _If you were possessed by Voldemort. She almost had to kill dozens of people, and she dealt with the madman's mind. There is no way she escaped that without mental repercussions._

Harry shuddered as he saw the shade of Tom in his mind's eye. The mocking, sneering face of a seventeen year old murderer often haunted Harry's sleep. He refused to allow the beast's face haunt his waking hours as well.

Harry fought back to his previous train of thought, and noted idly that he hadn't seen Percy since he left for the Zabini tent with Bill. Deciding that it wasn't worth really thinking too hard about, Harry instead turned his thoughts toward the upcoming game.

The Irish team had an incredible Chaser lineup, and a decent keeper, but the Bulgarians had the best seeker in the league. If you listened to Fred and George, the Bulgarians had better beaters, but Ron was adamant in the fact that the Irish Beaters had the better skill and symmetry.

Harry climbed the multitude of steps to the pinnacle of the box. Seated here were the highest ranking of Britain's elite. The teen growled, wishing Sirius had spent more time teaching him about the social structures, and less about the small differences between the Celtic rune for 'Bravery', and the one for 'Courage'. Though, Harry did have to admit, the two were tricky, and when combined meant 'Bravery in the face of Battle'. The teen only knew that because of the way Sirius drilled the subject into his head.

Remus was just as bad about Arithmacy though._ The magical difference between a vector and ray? Seriously Moony? _The rational part of Harry's mind reminded him that both men had mastered both branches of magic, and drilled those things because most couldn't understand them.

The teenage part of his mind though, just wanted to complain. It was not a habit that Harry had indulged much over the summer, seeing as how it was worthless.

Harry simply wished he knew more about the situation he found himself in. Scanning the box, he found a dozen nobles, and a variety of foreign dignitaries.

His eyes landed on a pretty blonde girl. Her hair reached below her shoulders, Harry couldn't see just how far. Her eyes were a brilliant crystalline blue, they held no emotion. The girl's face was expressionless and cold. She wore a mask of Ice, the Ice Queen, Daphne Greengrass. She gave a nearly imperceptible nod in Harry's direction. Harry nodded in reply.

Harry wasn't sure if Blaise would have contacted her yet. He said he needed time to draft a letter to the girl, and he might not manage to with the proper wording. Everything that was sent to her by certain owls, Gilgamesh being one of them, was handled by Lord Greengrass first. The young Italian had to establish a code, and send the cipher in a single letter. It was not an easy task, and the boy wasn't sure he would manage it before the end of summer.

Harry had prepared himself for the fact that Daphne and Tracey may not know of his changing mind until he told them himself on the train.

He was thankful that the preparation came in vain.

Harry kept his face in a mask, not allowing his nervousness to bleed through. He mentally sighed, this would have been so much easier had he not known of his heritage.

_Easier,_ he thought,_ but not as fun._

As he thought it, he realized it was true. Harry enjoyed the challenge of fitting in among the Lords. He felt the weight of his duty, and it thrilled him. The joy of being among those of his own kind that he discovered on that fateful day in Diagon Alley had never truly abandoned him, but now it bled through once again. Here, in this moment, he was surrounded by a hundred thousand people who had one goal, to cheer for a sports team.

Harry felt at home, and he never intended to leave.

Harry's musings were cut short by the large belly, and larger voice of Ludo Bagman. He wore the robes of a beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, and spoke with a joy in his voice that few dared to replicate. It aggravated Harry.

"Ah Harry Potter, my boy where have you been? I was looking for you earlier." Bagman's eyes stared at Harry's faint scar, rather than the teen's eyes.

Harry shifted in his seat so that he was looking the older man in his small blue eyes. "I was with a friend all morning, after that I was with the Weasleys, but I don't see how that is your concern, Mr?" Harry left the title hanging. He knew the man's name obviously, but wanted to make a statement.

"Ah, yes, we've never been introduced. My name is Ludovic Bagman. You can just call me Ludo. I would love to chat, but I have to commentate this match, so if you would excuse me please." Harry moved his legs to the side to allow the man room to pass.

Harry looked around the stadium with his omnioculors. The nobs on the sides allowed him to zoom in and out, and to speed up and slow down play. As he looked around, he saw golden words flash up like a display, calling out names of spells that the people in the stands were throwing around.

_Interesting, I wonder how it detects that._

Harry looked around some then put the device back in his bag. He had noticed something on the air, a subtle shift of the tone of the box.

Harry looked directly to his left and noticed Lucius Malfoy glaring at him. The man's cold grey eyes carried a fury that was unprecedented. He was obviously still thinking about Harry's words.

Draco stood near his father, a practiced sneer on his face as he gazed around the box. His eyes caught Harry's with a slight amount of surprise, but it was gone in an instant. The only reason Harry caught it was because of the pranking he'd been subjected to over the summer. The only warning that Remus was about to unleash a prank was a slight glint in his eye.

Narcissa Malfoy looked beautiful in her tailored robes. The hem of her garment flowed elegantly with her curves, and her hair was bone white, a stark contrast to her maiden name. Though for all the contrast, Harry still saw in her eyes the look of a Black. It was a look that Sirius had drilled into Harry. One of the things that Sirius taught the teen over the summer about politics was that if he had the eyes of a Black, he would be given a wide berth.

Harry adopted his iron mask once again, and Narcissa's eyes locked with Harry's. In them she saw not a boy of muggle upbringing, but rather she saw the eyes of Heir Potter, and Heir Black. Her mind was decided, Harry Potter would win the next war.

She doubted she could convince her Husband though. She did however, give Harry a polite nod. Harry returned the gesture, and no one saw any of the exchange.

Harry turned his attention to the match as the Minister came bubbling in, chatting with a surly looking Bulgarian man. The minister was pantomiming something, and the Bulgarian was nodding. Harry stifled a laugh as he noticed the look in the man's eyes. The man understood English very well, but was amusing himself by making the minister look like a fool.

The teen nodded to the dignitary, an amused smile dancing on his lips.

Bagman started to speak, announcing the games for all to hear. His magically amplified voice carried to all one hundred thousand people, and they cheered for him.

"Welcome wizards and witches, to the four hundred ninety third Quidditch World Cup! I am your Commentator, Ludo Bagman! Today, your match is brought to you by Comet, just remember, if you're going somewhere, the comet can get you there faster!"

Harry leaned to Bill, who was sitting on his left. "Ironic isn't it, that all the players are on Firebolts though?"

Bill laughed softly.

Bagman hadn't stopped speaking, and was now introducing the Bulgarian team's mascot. The fires in the giant braziers dimmed to a low glow, the atmosphere they created was somewhat eerie. As Harry watched, a group of incredibly beautiful women walked out, and began to dance.

Harry's mind went blissfully blank. He could think of nothing but the alluring way the women moved their hips, the way their hands moved in the air, or the serene expressions on their faces. The dance picked up speed, and so too did Harry's heartbeat. Harry's mind was floating with half-formed ideas, ways to impress the women. He could jump off the top box, or simply call his name.

Before he could do anything foolish, the women stopped. They moved to the sides of the field and sat down, breaking their hold on the men of the stadium.

Harry sat back in his seat, he didn't remember standing. "What was that?"

"Veela." Came Bill's reply. "A lot of veela. Their beauty is enchanting, and their dancing can make a man's head go wild." Bill gazed at them, confirming for Harry that not even the cool cursebreaker was immune.

"Now! The Irish mascot!" came Bagman's booming voice, echoing off the golden stands.

Coming over the stadium was a golden comet, flying low and fast. It came above Harry, and he saw it was the shape of a giant four leaf clover, raining golden coins. The men on it were very short, and dancing to an upbeat tune.

"Leprechauns." Harry muttered.

Charlie, who was sitting on Harry's right, chuckled. "Of course, who else would be Ireland's mascot?"

The leprechauns split off into dozens of groups, flying in formation all around the stadium. They staged a dogfight, throwing gold at each other, and swooped over the heads of the fans with abandon.

The crowd went wild, a clamourous din arose from the entire stadium. The Leprechauns bowed to all, and sat on the opposite side of the field from the Veela.

When the noise died down, Bagman continued announcing. "Now, the Irish national team! Lead by team captain and seeker, Lynch! Chasers, Troy, Mullen and Moran! Beaters, Connolly and Quigley! Keeper, Ryan!"

The thunderous din rose again, as the Irish team flew from their locker rooms. Each player came when his name was announced, flying with style for the crowd to watch. Lynch took his place in the center, waiting to shake hands with the opposing captain. His green robes hung down past his broom, but Harry knew it was just for effect, he would either shorten them, or tame them before he started flying.

"Now for Bulgaria! Captain and keeper Zogrof takes the field! Chasers, Ivanova, Dimitriov, and Levsky! Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov!" The players shot into the stadium, with Zogrof taking his place across from Lynch.

Bagman waited for the crowd to grow silent, he was indeed good at managing it. "Seeker! KRUM!"

Viktor Krum shot into the stands like a scarlet rocket. His robes billowed behind him, again simply for display. He rounded the Irish team, and came to rest in the back of the Bulgarian's group.

"The referee, Hassan Mostafa!" The referee flew up to the two captains, and they shook hands. The teams took position, and Mostafa threw the quaffle straight into the air. The Irish chasers flew after it, Troy barely grabbing it before Ivanova could. Troy passed to Mullen, who passed to Moran. The play was going so fast that Bagman only had time to shout the names of the players in possession of the quaffle before it changed hands.

"Intercepted by Levsky!" The scarlet clad chaser had flow down and grabbed a pass between Mullen to Troy. She turned around, and sped to the Irish goals with the quaffle. She brought her arm back, intent to fire, and was hit by a bludger from Connolly.

"Good play by Connolly! Troy in possession." The quaffle flew back to the Bulgarian goals. Troy passed to Moran just as he was hit in the shoulder by a bludger fired by Volkov.

The Irish beaters, in Harry's opinion were not as good as the Bulgarians. They flew almost in tandem, and seemed to work together well. But the Bulgarian beaters flew perfectly in tandem, and fired their bludgers with a better mix of precision and power.

For an hour the play was fierce, Ireland was up sixty to ten, and didn't seem intent to give Bulgaria anything. Harry's eyes occasionally drifted to the seekers, but as they were just flying in circles, there wasn't much to see.

The play got more and more intense, at one point the Veela seduced the referee, and he kicked them off the field.

Bulgaria fouled Ireland a dozen times, giving them many free throws, but the Bulgarian keeper was just too good. Only three of the shots made it through the hoops, and Ireland soon lead 140 – 10.

Harry had watched earlier as Krum lead Lynch into a shattering dive, and pulled out. The Irish seeker flew a bit more slowly after that, and gave the surly Bulgarian his space. The second time however, when Krum faced the ground in a dive, Harry was certain he saw the snitch. The Bulgarian pushed his broom for all it was worth, pulling into dives and zigzagging across the field.

Lynch followed Krum, putting speed into his broom to rival Krum, almost. Lynch made himself smaller on the broom to allow for less wind resistance, and he started to gain on the Bulgarian.

Krum fought for speed, pouring it on to his broom in excess, straining the wood and causing the hazel twigs to start smoking. He lifted his hand from the handle of his firebolt, careful not to cause any more drag than necessary, and shot his hand out like a rocket, enclosing the small, fluttering snitch in his gloved hand.

"Krum has caught the snitch! Bulgaria catches the snitch! Ireland wins, but Bulgaria catches the snitch!"

Harry looked back at the score, last he had seen it was at 140 – 10, but now it read 170 – 160. Harry smirked, Ireland had taken the distraction caused by the seekers to score three more times.

The Irish team flew a victory lap around the pitch to deafening cheers.

Both teams made their way to the top box, and Harry was surprised by the players. None of them looked a day over twenty-five. The athletes shook hands with the minister of Britain, and of Bulgaria, who was the man Crouch was miming to before the match.

As the Irish team held the trophy aloft, cameras flashed, the crowed thundered, and the Bulgarians clapped enthusiastically.

Harry looked at Krum, and was surprised once again. He was very young, and duck footed. The man who was so at ease in the air seemed to have difficulty walking in a straight line on the ground.

"I'm going to go back to the tent before anyone notices me." Harry spoke to Bill, he knew he would have to use his fame one day. But that day was for the players, not him.

Bill stood before Harry could, and parted the crowd a bit. Harry walked in the wake he caused, not letting anyone see his eyes or scar. Together the two walked down the stairs and to the tents.

"I don't like crowds much. Spending months alone in a tomb can do that to you I guess." Bill's hunched shoulders and quickened pace spoke volumes, it was obvious he really did want to get away from the growing crowd in the top box.

"Now, I have a good reason if someone asks."

Harry smiled. He never really thought that he would make friends with Ron's eldest brothers. "I grew up mainly alone, I've never liked crowds much. Then I get thrust into the wizarding world, and everyone crowds around me. It's irritating beyond belief, and one of the reasons I always just hung out with Ron and Hermione. I know they kept people away from me, and I was grateful."

"And now?" Bill looked at Harry questioningly.

"Now, I'm friends with the son of the Italian Black Widow. It's a reputation that precedes Blaise. I don't think I'll have any real problems. Nothing I can't handle at least."

Bill walked forward, having come to a stop talking with Harry. The two walked in a companionable silence. Each were lost in their own musings.

Harry wondered, with the Triwizard Tournament coming this year, would there be any Quidditch?

_Maybe there will be inter-school tournaments. Quidditch, Dueling, maybe academics. That's how I would run it._ Harry was lost in his musings even after they entered the tent.

Harry yawned, and told Bill he would be in bed if anyone needed him. This way, he wouldn't have to deal with Ron.

Harry awoke several hours later, to explosions and screams.


	8. Chapter 8

The screams were distant, but growing ever closer. Having slept through dozens of pranks, Harry was only slightly surprised that they woke him up. An earth shattering explosion sent stray tendrils of magic through the air, and caused Harry's face to pale.

Whoever was attacking knew their dark magic, and knew it well.

"Guys, come on!" Bill ran into the room that Harry shared with the twins and Ron, throwing everyone their things. "We need to get out of here!"

The cool redhead spoke with such urgency that Harry was out of the tent before he realized he was moving. The group wasted no time to sprint to a cluster of trees, running alongside the other fleeing wizards.

_They're sheep. Remus and Sirius would be out fighting._ As quickly as the thoughts entered his mind, Harry scolded himself. Remus and Sirius had training, these people didn't.

Bill led the group to a small clearing at the front of the woods. He looked at the heads of all the people who ran with them, there were more than he started with.

"Weasley group, sound off!"

Everyone said their names, Fred and George didn't even joke about it.

"Where's dad?"

"And Charlie?"

Bill looked back at the campsite, the spells were slowing down. "They went to help."

"_Morsmordre_!" Harry didn't know the spell, but upon hearing the incantation, Bill's face went pale and slack. He quickly composed himself, and turned to the direction of the sound.

Pulling his wand out, and putting an arm behind him, he screamed another spell. "_Iconis Magnus!"_

Harry magically felt for his sensor, and tried to examine the effects of the spell. There didn't seem to be any.

"Bloody hell, that guy's good." Bill turned to Harry, and his eyes were alight with magic, nearly burning in their intensity. He pointed to the sky, where stars seemed to be rearranging themselves into the image of a green snake and skull.

Harry recognized it as the Dark Mark.

Screams began anew, and Bill set a line of fire around the clearing. "Don't step outside the fire. It won't burn you if you're on this side." With a quick look back, he leapt from the fire to a spot several feet beyond. "If I run into Charlie or Dad, I'll send them over here."

With those parting words, Bill sprinted once again into the darkness of the trees.

Half an hour later Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley all walked near the flames. Bill dispelled them with a wave of his hand, and Mr. Weasley smiled at his kids.

"I'm glad you're all alright. I'm just going to say this to you, yes those were in fact death Eaters, and no, we didn't catch any of them." He looked directly at his daughter. "I heard Malfoy's voice among them."

Ginny raised her chin, and put her shoulders back, staring defiantly ahead. She nodded once, and retreated behind a mask. Ron seemed to mouth something along the lines of 'slimy git', but probably more colorful. The twins were trying to seem nonchalant, but they failed.

"The ministry is probably going to try to cover it up, to say that it was just some kids, but I want you to know. The Death Eaters attacked, and it was damn foolish." Harry stared at Mr. Weasley, having never heard the man swear.

"Bill, you and I are going to side-along everyone to the Burrow. Charlie, go tear down the tent and get all our things home." Percy appeared swiftly, followed by a man with a stern face and even more severe robes.

"Dad, Mr. Crouch would like a word." Percy gestured behind him at the intimidating man.

Mr. Weasley scoffed. "Bartemius, you may have a word when my children are safe at home."

"Arthur this is import-"

"Damn you Bartemius, my job is not my life. I actually care for my children and those I love. Do you understand the concept of family over work?"

Bartemius Crouch looked unfazed. "I expect you will do your job when you're done?"

Mr. Weasley sighed. "Yes Bartemius, I will do my job when I'm done. Percy!"

The more political Weasley jumped at his name. "Yes?"

"Apparate Ron and Hermione to the Burrow, you're skilled enough for double side-along. Bill, you take the twins. I'll take Harry and Ginny." Mr. Weasley glared at Crouch, daring him to argue. The mustached man remained silent.

Percy took Ron and Hermione's arms tightly, telling them not to fidget, and disappeared with an enormous 'CRACK!' Bill took the twins more gently, and also told them not to move, he disappeared much more quietly.

"Harry, have you ever side-along apparated?"

"No."

"Alright, it's going to feel like I'm stuffing you through a very narrow tube. Just hold on tightly and we'll arrive before you know it."

Ginny moved near her Father and grabbed his hand in a vice grip. Harry grabbed his offered arm less tightly. The balding redhead closed his eyes and drew in his magic.

Suddenly it was as if Harry was being crammed into a water hose, and dragged across all of Scotland. There was no definition to the world, no flying colors, no spinning shapes. It was as if someone pulled a mask over his eyes, physically and magically speaking. He couldn't see anything with his sensor either. Just as soon as it started, it ended. The cracking sound that Mr. Weasley made was much quieter than Percy's but louder than Bill's.

"I have to get back to the campsite, Bartemius will be rather peeved with me." The older man rubbed the back of his neck. "I probably shouldn't have brought up his son." With a parting wave to Harry, and hug to Ginny, he disappeared quietly.

Ginny looked toward the Burrow, it stood tall among the hills and the apple trees. Her eyes were focused on something only she could see. "He's going to be angry."

Harry's eyes wandered around the scene, looking for whatever it was the younger girl saw. "Who?"

Ginny turned her head to look Harry in the eye. Her eyes seemed several shades darker than the previous night. "Voldemort. The attack was horribly executed, and drew unwanted attention. It was the result of alcohol and idiocy. When he comes back, everyone who participated today will be punished."

"How do you know?"

"I just do." Ginny lightly tapped her temple and walked to the Burrow, she stuffed her hands in the pocket of her jumper, and bowed her head.

* * *

The next morning the events of the previous day were all over the papers. The Prophet reported about the scores and highlights of the game, and the 'Masked Villains that attacked the celebrations. They were made out to be Bulgarian extremists that were furious about the outcome of the match.

The paper was well written and meticulously picked over. Nowhere did it describe the masks of the villains, and the floating Dark Mark was passed off as a very good illusion crafted by a member of the extremist group. Over all, it was very believable and utter bull.

At half past nine Remus nearly broke down the door in his haste to check on Harry. Mrs. Weasley barely got out of the way of the nearly hysterical werewolf. Harry turned in his seat to look at his uncle.

Kneeling on the floor, and looking Harry in the eye, Remus began to berate the raven haired teen. "I know you can handle yourself kid, but do _not_ endanger yourself the day after leaving again. Sirius nearly had kittens, _kittens!_"

Having said his two knuts, he calmed down. "Did anything good come of your excursion yesterday?"

Harry nodded. "I met, and Bill flirted with, Vixen. Blaise ripped into Hermione, albeit unfairly considering I already did the previous night." Harry put a hand to his chin, pretending to think. "Oh, and our summer experiment came to pass successfully."

Remus only had to think for a moment to figure out what Harry meant. His mouth opened and he mouthed the word 'orchard'.

"Really? That's good. I have to get back quickly, Paddy is trying to tear down a couple wards, I'm supposed to be there in order to tackle him to the ground and take the brunt of an explosion." Remus shrugged, his face nonchalant at Mrs. Weasley's gobsmacked expression.

"I can heal ten times faster than he can, one hundred times faster with the aid of certain spells. Normally my condition is horrible, but occasionally I don't mind it." Remus's eyes glanced toward the food on the table, he had arrived just as everyone finished eating.

"Take as much as you would like dear."

Remus smiled. "Thank you Molly, I certainly will."

After loading a couple plates with food, Remus walked out the Burrow with Harry on his heels.

"I'm going to apparate to where Sirius and I are now, and he'll come back with me. I'll come in over there." Remus pointed to a large tree that had a much obstructed view, perfect for apparating in.

Harry nodded, and started walking toward a spot in the orchard that would be able to see the designated apparation point. He considered shifting, but decided to wait and let his uncles see the entire process. It wasn't even five minutes before Sirius appeared, he quickly shifted into Padfoot, and bounded towards his godson. Once again, Harry considered shifting, just to display his size and power.

Remus followed his best friend at a more moderate pace, he had apparated with a full plate of food and a fork. As he approached Sirius and Harry, who were wrestling on the dirt, he pointed with the fork. "If I'm right, you won't get to do that much more. Harry is probably much stronger than you when transformed."

Sirius backed off and transformed, grinning. "That's why I needed to do it now. It's not like I've had his whole life to play."

Harry sat cross-legged and grinned. "Moony's right. I'm bigger and stronger than Padfoot, I know I'm faster too."

"I just need to work on progressing to full on Grim then."

Remus, normally incredibly patient, was nearly giddy with anticipation. "Come on, let us see it."

"See what?" Harry's eyes shone brightly.

"You!" Sirius looked just as anxious to see Harry's form as Remus.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm right here. Moony, did Padfoot go blind or something?"

Harry stood up, and grinned. He focused on the primal side of his magic, the side that screamed to run, to chase, to play. He held it, and let it seep out, slowly. His black hair matted slightly, becoming tamer, his canines elongated, and his eyes turned to amber. His ears lengthened, and grew fur. His spine morphed, turning him from a straight-backed teen to a seeming hunchback. His fingers elongated and the skin all over his body started to turn to a charcoal grey color.

Fur sprouted up and down his arms and back, his shoes morphed into paws, and his clothing took the pattern of fur. Unable to continue shifting slowly, Harry simply let the shift finish, his face lengthened into a snout, and a tail popped into place. He stood slightly taller than Sirius when finished, and took great joy in blowing air in the Marauder's face.

"A Dire Wolf…" Remus raised his hand to stroke Harry's neck, but hesitated. Harry nodded his huge head, and the werewolf marveled at the softness of the fur.

Sirius walked around Harry, inspecting things like claws and tail. He had Harry open his jaw and reveal his fangs.

"Morgana's tits… Look at you." Sirius shook his head and looked around. "Ok Harry let's get a basic form of communication down. I'm going to ask questions with answers like 'Very much so' or 'Not at all'. I want you to put your paw forward for positive statements, and back for negative."

Harry put his right paw forward.

"Good. Can you feel magic besides the bit needed to shift back?"

Harry felt his core, and remembered the first time he tried to shift back once again. He put his right paw forward once more.

"Perfect, do you feel the need to hunt?"

Harry lifted his paw and put it right back under him, signifying that he only wanted to hunt for pleasure, and didn't necessarily want to kill.

"Ok, I think I understand. I'll just assume it's the same as when I shift, for pleasure, right?"

Harry nodded once again.

"Shift back, I want to ask you some questions."

Harry shifted, albeit reluctantly. "What do you want to know?"

"How long can you run for? Any idea?"

"I flat out sprinted for an hour straight yesterday, I wasn't winded at all. But beyond that, I have no idea."

Remus nodded, he was writing on some parchment, Harry had no idea where he got it. "Any idea how fast you were going?"

"Not a clue."

Sirius smiled and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "This is great! With your hearing and nose, you might be able to find even more secret passages than we know!"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, maybe I could add them to the map."

Remus shook his head. "No, the map's been drawn, no updating it at all. You could make a new one, but it's not much fun. We stopped using ours near the end of fifth year."

Sirius shrugged. "Most of the shortcuts we know of are only in our heads anyway. The more obvious ones, as in the ones we found in first to fourth years, are on the map you have."

Harry was speechless. "You, you found more than what is on the map?"

Sirius nodded. "I lived in Hogwarts most of last year. Down in the dungeons there is an archway that if you tap it in the right place, it'll take you to an identical copy of the normal dungeons, just completely empty. It's like Platform 9 ¾. Moony spent most of the free time he had looking for me in the castle."

Remus chuckled. "I told Dumbledore that if any of the four of us wanted to hide in Hogwarts, we could manage it without ever being seen. It's the main reason he hired me, I couldn't possibly explain everything I know about the castle to a single person."

Sirius stood from his sitting position, dusting the grass off of his trousers. "I should be getting back to the Borough, do you have any questions?"

Harry thought for a second. "Just one, how did you know about the Tournament? It seems like it's being kept very secret."

"Ludo Bagman is a very talkative drunk, and Noctem is a very special bird." Sirius spoke with an air of mystery; Noctem had rarely been discussed all summer.

* * *

The following days passed quickly, Harry spent most of his time talking to Bill about his job as a cursebreaker, and exploring Ottery St. Catchpole in his Dire Wolf form. He was told he was absolutely forbidden to give himself a nickname, it was the job of the other Marauders.

Life in the Burrow was tricky. He had to sidestep Ron and Hermione constantly, and make excuses for his time as a wolf.

_Right, because Bill totally believes I fell asleep for six hours and didn't know where I was yesterday… He probably knows exactly where I go, stupid Sensor._ Harry contemplated confronting him about it, but decided against it.

Sure, becoming an Animagus was legal, thanks to James and Sirius, but most people don't know that. With a small Wizengamot body in the midst of the war, only five Lords had shown up for that Monthly meeting and all of them decided to keep the information to themselves. The lack of reporters interviewing the Lords also kept the knowledge out of the papers.

Harry wondered if everyone knowing they could become an animal on command would have saved lives, Sirius had admitted that it was possible, but he and James weren't thinking of the lower classes at the time. They just wanted to save their own skin.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had let his mind wander from the chess game he was playing with Ginny. It was difficult enough to play chess when thinking properly, when he was distracted Ginny had pulled several pieces off of his side.

"Are you ok Harry?" Her brown eyes were warm and light, not the dark shade he had seen several days before.

"Just thinking, when did you get so good at chess?" Looking back at the board, Harry noticed he was being ruthlessly crushed.

"Before Ron went to Hogwarts, it was just him and me. Mum doesn't like chess so we would play each other a lot. Sometimes Dad would play with us, but he's not as good." Her eyes drifted down. "And, I can see the weakness in your positioning. You're trying to save every piece, keep every pawn on the board. It doesn't work, you have to sacrifice. Every one of mine you've taken has been because I've let you."

"Because you can't see my plan, and the way I've been sacrificing, I can do this." Ginny told her knight to move, and Harry noticed for the first time just how weakly his king was defended. As soon as the knight settled in his new square, the king looked around before setting his crown on the board, signifying 'checkmate'.

"Do you remember I told you that I have these impulses?" Ginny's voice was low.

"Yes."

"I remember everything now. I remember walking to the roosters and ringing their necks, painting the wall with my own blood, and speaking parseltongue to control the basilisk. I remember setting it on the students and getting angry when they didn't die. I was furious at the snake's constant failings to kill other people Harry."

"And that's not the worst part. Sometimes, in my dreams, I see memories that aren't mine. Sometimes it's just simple things, like doing homework or eating. But sometimes I see Tom killing. He killed his father when he was seventeen. He killed Myrtle when he was sixteen. He was giddy when he did it, as if there was no greater pleasure than taking another life." Ginny looked up at Harry, her eyes were no longer brown, rather they were a deep crimson like her hair. She looked like she would break at any second.

"I feel giddy in those dreams Harry. I feel happy when I see the green light of the killing curse envelop Tom's father. It terrifies me, and exhilarates me at the same time. That's how I know that he will curse his followers for attacking the World Cup, I know how he thought when he was seventeen, and he doesn't seem to change much."

Not knowing what to do, Harry just sat in his chair, looking at Ginny. The red was fading from her eyes, and she didn't seem quite as fragile.

"Ginny, you just have to remember who you are, maybe you have to rediscover who you are. Find out, and act accordingly. You have an amazing family and intensely loyal brothers, you will never be alone. But if you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm right here."

Ginny stood and walked around the small table to Harry. Crying, she flung herself into his arms, and held on for dear life.

Harry rubbed her back and whispered to her, telling her it would be alright. He supposed that he always did want a sister.

* * *

Standing at six and a half feet tall, Ezekial Kent towered over the stately Augusta Longbottom, and dwarfed Rafael Barrion. With styled dark brown hair, and a fighter's build, few people wished to anger Lord Kent.

Lord Barrion seemed to be one of those people. He stood in a corner of the private room that was rented months ago by an unknown benefactor. Seeing no immediate purpose to his precense in the room, he tried to anger the only person that could have called the meeting. Lady Longbottom certainly didn't want anything to do with him, and Lord Kent was the only other person in the room.

Lady Longbottom suffered through the anger that was bubbling in her, she detested Lord Barrion as a man, and would destroy him politically, if given the chance. Lord Kent stood across the room, his hands on the back of an elegant couch, nearly ripping the cushions with tension. There were few times Lord Kent got so angry he ever actually did anything, but those times were supposedly very impressive.

The door opened quietly, and Remus slipped in, watching the display in front of him he only sighed. "I apologize for my tardiness. I was helping my friend rebuild his wards, they're quite tricky."

Lords Barrion and Kent stared at Remus, while Lady Longbottom smiled. Rafael Barrion had a look of revulsion and contempt, just as Remus expected. Lord Kent looked intrigued. Lady Longbottom remembered all the times her son spoke highly of the scarred man, and his skill.

"What are you doing here, _Half-Breed_?" Lord Barrion spat the term like a curse, and Remus sighed.

"I think that he means, 'How do we owe you any favors?'" Lord Kent raised an eyebrow, and Lady Longbottom nodded in agreement with the question.

"To put it simply, you don't." Remus spread his hands and shrugged.

"Then I will take my leave, beast."

"You, Barrion, however do owe my best friend for getting you out of a marriage contract to a pauper in Russia."

Lord Barrion stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

"And Lord Kent, you wouldn't have such a fine home if it weren't for him." Remus smirked and raised his eyebrow. "Lady Longbottom, you owe my friend nothing, in fact he owes you. If you stay, he'll offer an alliance and a vast sum of money. You will, of course need to swear an oath not to reveal what we speak of."

Lady Longbottom knew that the coffers of the Longbottom Estate were dwindling. Many of their businesses had been destroyed in the war, and the care she was providing her son wasn't cheap. An offer of alliance from someone who could play the strongest members of the grey and dark sides was an offer she couldn't refuse, not at this time.

"I accept, Mr. Lupin. I swear not to reveal anything I learn in this meeting, and to assist the upcoming endeavor in any way I can, so long as I am not incriminated in any wrongdoings." Light brown magic swirled around her as the oath took hold.

Lord Barrion and Lord Kent made similar oaths, but they were unnecessary, they wouldn't be able to go against the favors that were called in, Sirius did after all teach Remus how to magically enact a debt.

"So, what does Lord Black want?" Lord Barrion stayed standing, trying to appear more powerful than the werewolf.

Lady Longbottom gasped, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

"To prove his innocence, but with a Kiss on Sight order, he can't. You three are going to get him into court, and vote in his favor when he's in there." Remus looked the revolting lord in the eye. "Lord Barrion, you may be skilled, but I am faster, stronger, and know better spells. Sit down and stop trying to intimidate me. You're failing miserably."

"How can a mass murderer _prove_ his innocence? He killed for the madman you undoubtedly serve." Lady Longbottom spat the words like curses, gone was her stoicism, she was well and truly in a corner.

"Lady Longbottom, if Lord Black, and Mr. Lupin truly served You-Know-Who, don't you think that Lord Barrion would tolerate this a bit more?" Lord Kent was right, Barrion was sitting on a chair, fury radiating from his body.

Remus didn't want to let anything get out of hand, so he spoke in the uneasy silence that followed. "Sirius is innocent, you think he's guilty because he did such a good job on his double bluff."

"His what?"

"Double bluff Lady Longbottom." Lord Kent stroked his goatee, thinking. "It is where one person says a lie, in order to pull the heat off someone else. In this case, it seems that Mr. Lupin is saying that Lord Black was not the secret keeper, he only said that he was to keep the eyes off of Peter Pettigrew."

Remus nodded and Lord Kent continued. "In this case, Pettigrew probably was running from Lord Black not to save himself from the betrayer of his friends, but rather to save himself from the brother of the man he served up to be murdered. The muggles are probably dead at Pettigrew's hand, and the laughing was most likely a jinx that Pettigrew put on Black. It seems genius. More impressive than I remember Pettigrew being in school."

"He had his moments."

Lady Longbottom looked toward the werewolf. "Swear that is the truth, and I'll be more willing to help."

"I swear that Sirius pulled a double bluff to keep the heat off of Peter." Amber magic flowed from Remus's feet and swirled up, lingering slightly because of wording, but accepting the oath.

"Well then Halfbreed, Lord Black is more cunning than I thought. That is certainly a well-executed plan. How does he want me to help? The sooner we can start, the sooner I am free of this debt."

"Your job is simple Lord Barrion, you will mock outrage at the lack of Sirius' trial, and Lord Kent and Lady Longbottom will back you up. Lord Kent will powerhouse the trial as much as possible, and I'll be calling in more of Sirius's favors. Lady Longbottom, your task will be simple. Demand repayment for what happened to Frank. With his lack of a trial, and you demanding repayment before a council of his peers, people will listen to him. Lord Barrion, you need to take a stand, not actually for Sirius, but rather your own sensibilities. Lord Black has rotted in Azkaban for over a decade without a trial, as a pureblooded lord you should be furious. I knew two of them, granted they were more to the side of the light, but still, James and Sirius would have been seething at the lack of due process. Are you going to let society think that you allow pureblooded lords to rot without trial _Lord_ Barrion?"

Lord Kent hid a laugh as Lord Barrion stammered.

"You know your task Lord Barrion, how you go about it is your business, Sirius just wants to be a free man by the summer."

Having been excused, and seeing the folly in arguing with Remus, Lord Barron quickly exited.

"Is there anything else for me to accomplish Mr. Lupin?" Lady Longbottom's deep voice sounded.

"No, I would just appreciate it if you would stay a few minutes. Lord Barrion will most likely stay to see how long you are speaking with me. His debt is small, Sirius just broke a marriage contract for him. I want him to think that you are doing more than I asked in front of him. If he thinks he has the easiest job, he'll be less irritating."

Lady Longbottom nodded once, and poured herself some tea. "You said you were helping a friend rebuild some wards, was that Lord Black?"

Remus nodded. "He's trying to keep the old ward structure, and modify all the wards so he has direct control over them. He's had too much grief from trusting the wrong person."

Lord Kent poured his own tea, and reclined in the high backed chair that he had been sitting in. "When you say 'rebuild' are we referencing Raven's Borough?"

Remus smiled. "Yes, it once had among the greatest libraries in the world. It was the prize jewel of the Blacks. Unfortunately when that library burned, so too did much of the Black's legacy. Seeing how much he hated his family, Sirius is fine with that."

"I'm sure he is. You were not this political in school Remus, what changed?"

"A lot. I lost my family, I lost everything. And, I'm not the man really speaking here. Sirius has played you all like a harp. He told me what to say, when to say it, and whom to say it to. You've all responded exactly how he said you would. His plans are his own, what changed is a dozen years in Azkaban."

Lord Kent rose and offered his hand to Remus. "Well, I'm not sure if I should be insulted that I've been played like a harp, or flattered that Lord Black thinks I'm a worthy harp. Either way, I'm willing to help him with the Borough, because without him the Kent Estate wouldn't exist."

Remus shook the offered hand, and Lord Kent walked out. Remus and Lady Longbottom could hear him loudly asking Lord Barrion what he was still doing there.

"I think you can leave now Lady Longbottom. You've stayed long enough to look like we've been making other plans."

The older widow rose, and looked Remus up and down. "Frank spoke of you occasionally. You were a good prefect, but I think he knew of your condition. He trusted you, and he trusted Lord Black. I will trust you for the time being."

Lady Longbottom walked out of the room, no flair followed her, and no fanfare accompanied her stride. She was simple, and she was still in a corner.

She could easily become a threat, and Remus was worried.

* * *

Harry awoke to a deafening roar, it shook the very foundations of the Burrow, and flowed through the veins of magic. It was primal and energetic, and adrenaline surged through Harry's veins.

"Charles Septimus Weasley! What was that?!" Mrs Weasley's booming voice paled in comparison to the roar.

"You said to wake everyone up, I think I woke up a couple muggles way over there too." Charlie pointed to the town proper.

Bill, apparently not a morning person, walked down the stairs, into the kitchen, and punched his younger brother in the stomach, hard.

"Don't do that again."

Having seen everything by looking over the back of the couch, Harry laughed as Charlie clutched his stomach.

"Bill…" Mrs. Weasley began.

"No Mum, I've been thousands of feet below the earth for the past nine months. A roar like that would destroy my entire base camp at that depth, my reaction was tempered." Bill looked at Charlie who was still leaning over a bit. "Besides, if he can't handle a punch, he shouldn't be a dragon handler."

Charlie grinned, then launched his foot into his Brother's side.

Bill flew a couple feet to the left, and fell on his uninjured side. "Ow…"

Charlie stood and stretched, the motion paining him slightly. "Your punches are like little feathers tickling my side Bill. I thought Cursebreakers were supposed to be tough. You're a bit weak."

Bill stood up and grinned at Charlie. "We'll finish this later, so Mum doesn't kill us for fighting in the kitchen." Bill mock-bowed to his mother, and Charlie followed suit.

Ginny walked down, slowly. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Who roared?"

"Charlie." Harry smiled, he would have to ask for the incantation on that one.

Ginny nodded silently, and shuffled to the table.

All the other members of the Weasley family followed suit, except for Mr. Weasley.

"He's gone to help Mad-Eye Moody." Upon seeing Hermione and Harry's faces register confusion, Mrs. Weasley elaborated. "Mad-Eye Moody is an Auror, he caught half of the dark wizards in Azkaban."

_He was probably in Dumbledore's Order as well._ Harry realized that Mr. Weasley would do just about anything for a friend. He was very Hufflepuff-ish that way.

"Is everyone packed?"

Harry didn't even know why she asked the question, none of the Weasleys ever packed before it was time to leave.

"I don't know if Errol can make the flight to Hogwarts with anything you leave behind. Whatever you leave stays until the Christmas Hols."

There was a mad dash as Ron, Fred, and George ran to their rooms. _Ok, maybe one of them does pack._

"Ginny, you packed early?"

The redhead smiled and nodded. "I rather like to be punctual Heir Potter." She took a superior look and tried to make herself appear taller.

"That's Heir Potter-Black to you Miss Weasley."

Ginny's eyes widened. "You're his actual Heir?"

"Yes, if he doesn't produce an heir from his back pocket before I'm seventeen, I'll need two wives. I think that Blaise has my back on that one though. If Sirius finally gets to marry Isabella, he'd certainly adopt Blaise into the house of Black." Harry shrugged. "If something happens though, I'll be both Lord Potter and Lord Black. It's more money and power than I could ever see myself using."

Ginny nodded. "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. With your fame, money, looks, and political clout; you may have absolute power by the time you're thirty, maybe forty."

Harry was penseive, he didn't want to be that powerful, but he knew Ginny was right. With this kind of power in his hands, assuming he killed Voldemort, he could be corrupted by it. _I need someone to help me manage it._

_First, I need to survive the next war._ Harry walked to the corner of the family room where he had stashed his trunk. Doing a quick once over, he saw everything in its place.

Carrying his trunk to the front entryway he saw one there already, Ginny's he assumed. The trunk was badly damaged and horribly scuffed, but wrapped in enough enchantments that it could stand through any natural, and many unnatural disasters.

_They may be poor, but they're all skilled enough to not need new things._

* * *

The trip to King's Cross station was uneventful, Mr. Weasley had acquired cars for the family, and the ministry provided drivers. Harry sat sandwiched between the twins, eternally unsure as to any identifiers between them. Everytime he thought he found a marker, like a slight rise to a voice, they would trade it between them. They mastered the art of deception, and seemed to think of this as an ongoing prank on the entire world.

Coming to an epiphany, Harry 'accidentally' shot a small bolt of magic at one of the Twin's chest. It provided a marker on the twin's magic. Now all he needed was for them to refer to each other a few times to make sure of which one he marked. _Top that, twin._

The crowd at King's cross was abnormally large, possibly double the normal morning rush. Harry wondered how many obliviators had to walk among the muggles on September first every year. Especially considering how obvious the Weasleys were being. There were men and women walking through the shadows with their wands shooting nearly transparent grey spells. It was easy to miss, but again, months of watching every shadow for pranks helped immensely.

The barrier allowed him easy passage and reopened the world of Hogwarts. The castle wouldn't know what hit it.


	9. Chapter 9

Magic flowed through the ensemble of gathered witches and wizards, its tide was imperceptible and it's rhythm, chaotic. It was hypnotizing and entrancing, with colors of every hue, and the sound of hundreds of songs. The air tasted sweet, as magic often does. Though most could only smell the overlaying smell of bodies, the magic definitely had a tangible aroma. Magic was pure when raw, and fluid.

The Hogwarts express gathered all the magic into its steam engine. The flow of magic went straight into the vents on the side of the large machine. So much magic would destroy a muggle contraption completely, so it had to have been a magical construct. It made sense, precious few muggle items operated in the Wizarding world. Sirius's flying motorbike exploded three days after Hagrid took it because Hagrid didn't know how to maintain it.

Harry looked to the steam, it confused him. It seemed so solid, and it didn't really have any magic, but why would any steam be required at all? With magic powering everything there should have been no wasted rescources. An Illusion perhaps? It didn't seem like it was, but wasn't that the point of an illusion?

Harry shrugged and pulled his trunk onto the train. As he thought about the steam a realization occurred to him. Over the past month and a half, he had learned two and a half runic languages and the basic Arithmacy. He completed a ritual, and enchanted a gram/sensor. Most adult wizards couldn't do that in a full year. Hogwarts students could, but they were the best of the best. Harry would be bored at school. He would be able to finish assignments in record time, and be able to perform magic before his peers, awarding no homework.

He now understood magic better than most anyone within three or four years of him. Being only a fourth year, and unhampered by Hermione's forceful study habits, he had a lot of free time. His problem would be finding how to fill it.

_My dad used pranks, but the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations might not appreciate that. If I'm in the tournament I will have to use the time to prepare for that, but hopefully I won't be._

Harry's musings were cut short by a little girl, probably only in her first or second year. "Move it Potter. I'm trying to get to my cabin to sit and not have to be in the hallway with your Gryffindor filth."

_Second year, Slytherin._ Harry chuckled and pulled his trunk up onto his shoulder, allowing the little girl to pass. She was only twelve, but looking more closely, there was an age to her that defied her youth. _Ah, Magic Deepening practices. I wonder how many people perform them._

Tracey Davis walked toward Harry, her eyes resting on the door right next to him. She quirked an eyebrow at him and kept walking. When she was just in front of him she smiled. "Lost Potter?"

Harry was confused. "What?"

"This is the front of the train, Slytherins and the better classes of first years sit here. Gryffindor's are in the back, where they should be, right?" There was no joking in her voice. She was serious, and she didn't know anything about him wanting to talk to her.

Harry felt his blood run cold. If Tracey didn't know he wanted to talk to her, would Daphne? Did he read too much into the nod of the head at the World Cup? "I assumed that someone such as yourself would be more than happy to be sitting with Heir Potter-Black, after all, you may gain some modicum of power."

Harry adopted the look of a pompous pureblood, and it worked. Tracey's eyes widened slightly, and her posture shifted imperceptibly. "You're Heir Black? Malfoy always said it was him."

Now it was Harry's turn to quirk an eyebrow. "Really? In Lord Black's will, I am his sole beneficiary. At least that's what it said last week."

Tracey's hazel eyes, which were quite pretty, bored into him. "Since when?"

"The day I was born and he was named my Godfather."

Tracey nearly lost her composure completely. She ripped open the door they were standing next to and threw Harry inside. The fast, and harsh motions startled him, and he ripped his wand from its holster. Instead of attacking him like Harry expected her to, she collapsed to the floor in hysterical laughter. She was clutching her sides and crying from the force of her amusement.

Harry saw someone out of his peripheral vision, and was taken aback. Daphne Greengrass sat right next to him, her crystalline blue eyes piercing, and a fine eyebrow raised. Her golden blonde hair fell down to just past her shoulder blades with long bangs to frame her face.

She was beautiful, and looked older than she should.

"Tracey, why are you laughing?" She obviously was bewildered, but the words came out rather harsh.

"He's heir Black! Not Malfoy!"

Daphne's eyes widened noticeably. Her straight back bent forward slightly to get her marginally closer to Harry. Her eyebrows drew together and her lips formed a hard line. "I think that you have some explaining to do Potter. Blaise told me some things, but I want to hear your pitch, unskewed by Blaise's obvious bias toward you."

Harry resigned himself to a long talk. "Yes, I do."

Tracey had managed to stop laughing, and was sitting with her back to the door. In her fit of hysterics her ponytail had come undone, leaving her long brown hair draped over her tan blouse. "What in Morgana's name are you talking about Daphne?" She turned to Harry, "What in Morgana's name are you two talking about?"

Daphne turned to look at her friend. "Over the summer, Blaise told me that he and Potter had started talking. It seems that Potter here," She gestured to Harry offhandedly. "Has actually gained some modicum of intelligence. He wants help in the next war, and Blaise, you, and myself came with high recommendations."

Tracey's eyes analyzed Harry. She stood and sat down on the bench beside Daphne, across from Harry. "Whoever gave you the recommendations did a good job. So, what do you want from us, and what will we get from you?"

"Alliances. That's the answer to both questions. Help me, and you'll have the entire might of House Potter, and House Black behind you. I'd like to see the forces that could stand up to that and a bit of cunning." Harry opened his stance on the bench. He learned a lot about body language over the summer, how to read it, and what it said. He needed his to display honesty.

"It seems a bit early to be forging alliances, especially so far across house borders, don't you think?"

Daphne's eyebrow quirked at the question. Harry couldn't tell if she was simply interested in his answer, or if Tracey's question was one they had discussed previously. Harry took a shot in the dark and a leap of faith.

"I think that you and Greengrass already know that now is the perfect time. We're far enough into school that we know our classmates, and we're still young enough for adults to see any secret frienships as trivial. If we were seventh years, people would take notice of my very being here, yet as a fourth year? No one will care if I spend a bit more time with two attractive Slytherins."

Harry never moved from his seat, or spread his arms, but he seemed to take much more space in the compartment. His very presence was powerful.

Ice reigned in Daphne's eyes, they were still bright, but cold. "You're very good at reading body language Potter. You got all that from a single eyebrow?"

"More or less. It's how I normally think, just take away the part of me that says 'Who cares?'"

"It seems very Slytherin." Tracey's voice was challenging.

"I would hope so. If I had never met Malfoy in Diagon Alley, and he hadn't sought me out first year on the train, I would be your housemate."

Tracey's eyes narrowed. _If it weren't for Malfoy I would have had years to wrap Potter around my finger._

Daphne's voice cut through Tracey's musings. "You've never displayed any Slytherin characteristics before." It was a challenge, she expected him to rise to her bait. She expected a Gryffindor response, and she wouldn't get one. Harry knew the game she was playing, and she played it well.

"I think that I have." Harry hardened his eyes, and withdrew the warmth normally found there. Tracey was only slightly surprised by the intensity of such cold green eyes.

Daphne was unfazed by his display. "I don't."

"I would say that since you don't know I'm cunning that I've done a marvelous job of it."

"That's possible, or you're bluffing."

"Very well. In first year Hagrid had a dragon growing in his hut, under the cover of night Ron, Hermione and I snuck it onto the Astronomy Tower and Charlie Weasley's coworkers flew it to Romania."

"In second year I paid off numerous people to distract Lockhart so that he wouldn't bother me outside of class. And last year I was in Hogsmead every other weekend, whether it was a school sanctioned trip or not. Are those good enough?"

"No. You're moderately intelligent, and you can see a few things others miss. You do nothing to stop the rumors that obviously bother you. I honestly don't care about the myths surrounding your extra-curriculars. You may or may not have killed a Basislisk, you may or may not have fought a hundred dementors. I don't care."

"You are completely out of your depth in our world, you can't see the laws that are hanging in front of your face. You want to change things? You will. You'll destroy our entire society with your power combined with your idiocy."

_I've lost her help before I've even gotten it._ Harry internally sighed, he knew she would be cold and difficult, but this is insane.

"But there is hope for you."

Her eyes drifted over Harry's body. They lingered on the corded muscles he gained thanks to the medical potions that Blaise provided.

"You've been performing magic deepening exercises, which are not common. You've developed quite the tan, and your glasses are gone. Your scar has faded and your eyes seemed even brighter."

She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands. The ice in her eyes didn't fade, but her expression warmed slightly.

"You went out on a limb with your comment to Tracey about how we had talked, so I'm going on a limb here. When Sirius Black, Lord of the house of Black and general nuisance of Gryffindor, escaped from Hogwarts, it was you that freed him. Over the summer, instead of killing you, he's made you healthy. Instead of fighting for the Dark Lord, you want to fight against him. Sirius Black was a patsy, and someone else killed your parents. He wasn't a Death Eater, and he's been training you to become powerful. He wanted you to speak with me, most likely he knew his way around the castle enough to know that I don't hate all muggles and muggleborns."

"Did I miss anything?"

Harry was stunned. Blaise said she was smart, but that was incredible. "A few things, Hermione helped me free him, the goblins dealt with my eyes and scar, and Remus Lupin has helped both of us all summer."

"Isn't he a werewolf?" Tracey was leaning against the back of the train cabin. Her eyes displaying extreme confusion.

"Yes. But can you think of a better defense professor? He taught me the Patronus charm last year, and he taught all of us three years' worth of defense classes in one year."

Daphne's cold eyes evaluated Harry. "I suppose he did. Even Peeves respected him a bit, so that's something. Potter, if you promise me one thing, I'll help you win this war."

"What?"

"I value my own mind above almost anything. I learned Occulmency when I was ten so that I could guard my mind. My father has my Mother bound to his own will through a slavery rune. It was one of the stipulations on her marriage contract. She is physically incapable of thinking differently than him. I will not have my own mind ripped from my grasp."

Harry was furious, he couldn't imagine anyone desiring that kind of power over someone. It sickened him. "You will never have to endure that. Sirius had destroyed a dozen of those contracts in Hogwarts alone. You'll be safe from them. However, it could be difficult while he is a fugitive, so try not to get into one in the next year."

"So you have a plan to free him?" Tracey interjected.

"Yes. Sirius has two lords in his pocket already, and he thinks he can maneuver one more. The three of them are important enough to sway opinions in his favor."

"Who are they?"

Harry looked at her incredulously. "Why would I say that? It's his only shot, and you would know it. Until he's clear, the names of his helpers will remain quite secret."

She shrugged. "Fair enough, but trust is a two way street. Give and take Potter, quid pro quo."

Daphne stood, not quickly enough to startle, but not slowly. "I'm going to go get Blaise. Tracey, would you please cast the anti-Malfoy charms?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Anti-Malfoy?"

Tracey laughed, it was light and airy. "Yes, Anti-Malfoy. Second year, a seventh year didn't want to be disturbed by Malfoy's incessant clamoring, so he cast a charm on his door that Malfoy, and anyone Malfoy sent, wouldn't see it. Their eyes would pass right over the door, not recognizing it exists. Daphne bought the charm from him, and we've used it ever since."

Harry guffawed. "That, I would pay good money for."

"Give and take Potter, I'll start us off. I'll give you the schematics, wand motions and arithmacy. You will need Granger to help you understand the finer points of the maths, but the charm works whether you know the details or not."

"I don't need Hermione. Remus taught me Arithmacy over the summer."

Tracey's eyebrow quirked again. _What is with Slytherin's and their damn eyebrows?_

"How much did he teach you?"

"Enough that I can read and understand all of Greengrass's notes. She even made a few mistakes that Remus pointed out for me."

Tracey's hand stopped moving in midair. "You have Daphne's notes?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

Tracey shook her head. "Yes. No one has Daphne's notes except her; obviously Blaise has snuck into our dorm at some point and copied them without our knowledge." She chuckled under her breath. "He's going to be in for it…"

"Do you have to tell her? I mean, you can just take a copy of them and show her, it'd drive her mental, especially the corrections."

"No, she'd recognize Professor Lupin's handwriting. Then, as he wasn't the Arithmacy professor, she would connect them to you, then back to Blaise again. If you wanted to protect him, you shouldn't have brought up the notes. Seriously, you should know better. Doesn't Granger keep her notes under lock and key?"

Harry shook his head. "No. They're always on her person, and she's always willing to share them. It doesn't do much good though, I might as well just read the textbook. I'm not sure why she even takes notes. She has a nearly true photographic memory."

"Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. She's textbook in her OCD, nothing's really her fault, it's just that she's not fully rational when it comes to her obsessions. Respect of authority and book knowledge is just how she handles OCD. She might also be afflicted with slight Asperger's, savants are rather common with it, as is a lack of societal grace."

"I didn't know the magical community was so aware of mental disorders."

"Yeah, well we don't really have them. Only Muggleborns do. We have spells that will fix the slight imbalances if they're cast quickly enough. Some of the 'disorders' are actually gifts, it's just that muggle minds can't handle the strain of holding a magical gift, so they break. Full psychosis from an early age is most likely the sign of a seer manifesting itself in a young muggle. Most don't know that, I just saw a muggle asylum a few years ago and asked my Mother."

"Does it happen to older muggles?"

"J. R. R. Tolkien ring any bells? He was a professor over at some muggle university. What he Saw wasn't some grand fantasy in his head, it was true. He'd romanticized it sure, but the Ring War really happened, and no one has seen the elves since they disappeared all those years ago, nor do we know where 'Middle-Earth' really is."

"Really? What about hobbits, and intelligent dragons? Did he make those up?"

"No, no. Hobbits can actually be seen in Diagon Alley sometimes, and intelligent dragons certainly exist. They're just a bit rare." Tracey finished her wand motions. "There, Malfoy won't find this compartment. Probably takes a weight off your shoulders, considering he always hunts you down."

"You guys know about that?"

"We get a rundown of the conversation, how you always wet your pants, and cower before the wrath of a true pureblood." The glint in her eyes was just as mischievous as Sirius'

"Har Har. Very funny."

She put a hand to her mouth. "You mean you didn't piss yourself before second year? You didn't faint last year?"

"Piss myself? No. Faint, yes."

Tracey was surprised. "Really? You actually fainted? Why?"

"Dementors showed me the memory of my mother dying at the hands of Voldemort." Tracey flinched at his name.

"Huh, I suppose that would do it. Doesn't mean I'm not surprised, you just must have more bad memories than I expected."

Harry grunted. _Too many._

Tracey sat back down, her brown hair fell haphazardly over her shoulders. "I think you passed Daphne's test."

"What?"

"This whole thing," Tracey gestured wildly around the train car. "It was all an elaborate test. She can get other people to help her with marriage contracts, she could probably set one up herself as protection. I had no idea about you until I walked in so that I could form a different opinion, Blaise has his own opinions, Daphne would be the only one that first heard things through a filter. She wanted to test you before she risked her neck for your cause."

"She and I won't follow the Dark Lord, and neutrals won't be able to make it through the next war very well. We're going to need to choose a side, and with Lord Black on your side, you have a good headstart."

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "Head start? No, Voldemort has five decades of experience on me. I'm playing catch up, and it's only going decently."

Tracey shook her head. "You're looking at the king only; you also need to look at the pawns, bishops, knights and rooks. Destroy the support he has, and you will start his downfall. Lord Black lost a lot in the last war, and I'd be surprised if he takes prisoners. If you can kill the inner circle, preferably one at a time, and on a consistent basis, you could end the war."

"Your head start will push our classmates away from your ire, and away from Voldemort. You just need some way to identify yourself as better than everyone in the school. If you do that, I will look better as well."

The compartment door slid open, and Blaise walked in with Daphne trailing behind him. The Italian looked at Tracey, then glanced at Harry. Curling his lip into a sneer, he spoke to Tracey. "What are you doing with _Potter_? Don't you know there are more acceptable suitors just down there? I even heard that Malfoy thinks you're worth his time. You're a lucky girl Tracey."

Blaise's face lost its sneer and tried as hard as possible not to start laughing. Tracey nearly punched him. "Zabini, if you ever say that again, I'll make sure you never get the chance to disappoint a girl in bed."

Blaise spoke loudly in Italian, and Tracey obviously couldn't understand him any better than Harry.

Risking life and limb, Harry spoke. "You really are a lucky girl, I mean, if he can make Potter piss himself, and make him faint, he must be one heck of a wizard. I'm sure the precision with which he casts his spells is enough to make a grown man weep."

Tracey's hazel eyes became dangerous. She pulled out her wand and cast some spell, it sailed right over Harry's shoulder, but that's what she wanted. As Harry crossed his arms to lean back, his entire body melded with the train compartment. The cloth jumped out to his skin, and they transfigured him to be stuck.

"Potter, apologize, now."

Carefully crossing his arms as to not touch the seat, Harry remained mute. Slowly, the cushions of the seat enveloped his entire legs, moving from the back. Harry still said nothing.

Not until the cushions fused with his neck did he apologize, albeit insincerely. Tracey's expression was too funny for him to be remotely sorry for antagonizing her.

"Lighten up Davis, I hate Malfoy too."

Tracey finally broke into a smile. "Fine, but don't do it again."

"No promises."

Tracey made eye contact with Blaise, a predatory grin on her face. "Hey Daph, Blaise has a copy of all of your notes."

Daphne's head jerked up from the Runes text she was reading. "What?!"

Blaise glared at Harry, then at Tracey. He met Daphne's eyes. "Yes, I do. I stole your runes and Arithmacy notes every chance I got, and I used an obscure copying spell to copy every drop of ink onto my own parchment. Do you have a problem with that?"

Daphne's eyes promised retribution. "Yes."

"It's ok Daphne. I can help you get much better notes from some of Hogwart's greats." Blaise spoke with conviction. "Professor Lupin and Lord Black were very good at Arithmacy and Runes respectively. If Harry's been taught by them all summer, he easily could have very, very good notes."

Harry shrugged again, feigning modesty. "I learned two and a half runic languages this summer, and all of the third year Arithmatic principals. Spotting a few mistakes was necessary so that I didn't get misinformed." _I should not have said spotting._

Daphne's eyes lost the mirth they had for a moment, she noticed his slip of the tongue. She didn't bring it up, but she was irritated. "Norse and Celtic, what other language did you learn? We're not even done with those two, and won't get done until partway through this year."

"Egyptian, I wanted to make sure I got into the classes, so I learned more than necessary."

"If you wanted, you could probably skip to fifth year. This year we'll hit the end of Norse and Celtic, and start making runic diagrams, you already have practice with that." Blaise's obsidian eyes bored into Harry. "I want that practice."

Harry nodded. _Quid pro Quo, give and take. I might as well give something._

"You'll get it. Greengrass, Davis, how would you like to become shapeshifters, or at least the closest we can come?"

Daphne's eyes raised from her book. She looked at Blaise, who was surprised, to Tracey who was gobsmacked.

"You can't be serious. That _has_ to be family magic, why would you share it? The Potter Magnum Opus should not be simply given out."

Harry shrugged. "Quid pro quo. Give and take, this is me giving you something. Besides, in the process of me teaching you, I'll learn a lot about you and you'll learn a lot about me. Who knows, the Ice Queen may even befriend the Golden Boy."

For the first time, Harry saw her smile. Her teeth were white and straight, and her eyes danced. The smile disappeared instantly, but the idea of learning lost magic kept her eyes alight. "I'll swear any oaths you want. I want that magic."

"You'll have to. It's Potter and Black family magic, until we decide to sell it."

Tracey furrowed her brows. "Will you sell it?"

"Loan it, more likely. Get people to learn to teach it, and they would pay us every time they taught someone else. The Potter fortune took a hit in the last war, it would be the perfect way to reestablish funds."

"That makes sense. What about us, when will we learn, and how difficult is it?"

"This year, and you'll need to learn quite a bit about how Egyptian runes work. It took me a few weeks of dedicated time, but every minute I spent thinking about more than having fun at the beach was dedicated to mastering the process."

"However, You should know, it is a ritual. I doubt that you two have an issue with that, but just be warned."

Tracey waved her hand as if to dismiss it. "Who cares? You're offering us family magic from two of the oldest families out there, no one will even blink."

Harry ducked his head for a second. "Actually, My dad and Sirius created the magic themselves. We are relatively certain that it's true shapeshifting because of the fact that of the few people to do it, all can become magical creatures. Aside from that, it's new magic."

Tracey's jaw dropped, and Daphne's eyes regained their previous ice. Daphne blinked slowly, and then started to laugh.

"Don't try to make your parents more impressive than they were Potter."

"I'm not joking."

Silence reigned for a moment.

Tracey whistled long and low. "Damn, I really want to meet Lord Black."

Daphne nodded in silent agreement.

* * *

The rest of the train ride was uneventful, Daphne read in silence, Tracey chatted with Blaise, and Harry read a book to try to learn the rest of the Egyptian runic language.

As they neared the station, Harry had to risk ducking into the hall for the girls to change into their school uniforms. Fortunately no one noticed him.

Walking off of the train was a simple feat of avoiding the eyes of every single Slytherin. Harry got Tracey and Daphne to leave first, then pulled out his Invisibility Cloak.

Blaise stood leaning against the doorframe, his eyes scanned the crowd to make sure no one got curious as to what was in this particular compartment. "Do you think it was wise to promise teaching Daphne and Tracey to become shapeshifters?"

Harry fastened the cloak around his shoulders, remembering how Sirius had laughed at him when he had witnessed Harry treating it like a blanket. _"It's a cloak, not a quilt. Fasten it around your shoulders, and will it to become black. Simply put the hood up to become invisible."_

"I think so. I need them to trust me, and I need to show I'm willing to trust them. I'll have Sirius write up the oaths for them to speak, and I'll have them bind it in blood."

Blaise nodded. "Ok, there's no one in the hall, let's go." He opened the door, and Harry followed him out.

"You need to learn how to silence your footsteps without producing little green lights."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, but this summer I've made a gram, become a shapeshifter, and gained thirty five pounds of meat and muscle. I've been busy."

Blaise snorted. "Is it really thirty five?"

"Thirty two, but rounding it makes it sound better."

There was only one carriage left, and one person getting on it. She had silvery blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders, and a good amount of magic radiated from her. Harry took off his hood and forced the small clasps securing the cloak to his robes to take on a silver appearance.

Blaise stepped up to the carriage on the opposite side of the step ladder in front of it and offered his hand to the girl.

"Thank you Blaise, it's nice to know that your infestation of Snollies has lessened." The girl's voice was light and dreamy, as if she was speaking through a vivid daydream.

Blaise smiled lightly. "I've been wearing iron all summer perhaps that has helped."

The girl placed a hand to her lips, "Maybe, I'll have to ask Daddy if that helps." She finally took Blaise's offered hand and stepped into the carriage.

Harry stood next to Blaise and whispered. "Iron?"

"Legends say it wards against the Fae. Luna sees things no one else does, if she says I've been infested with Snollies, it could be something she doesn't know the name of so she has to make it up herself." Blaise shrugged. It was obvious he wasn't sure if the girl was crazy, or some sort of seer.

"That is actually somewhat terrifying. There may be things that I can't see affecting the world around me?" Harry glanced at her, she seemed to have radishes hanging from her ears as earrings.

Blaise nodded. "You understand why I wear an Iron pendant?"

"Yeah, does flat iron work?"

"I can't see why not, it just can't be conjured… Your gram is made out of flat iron, right?"

"Yes. I'm suddenly glad."

Blaise grunted before stepping into the carriage. The black vehicle started moving as soon as Harry entered and closed the door.

"You know Harry, gold has a tendency to interfere with invisibility cloaks. You should change that to silver."

Harry glanced at his fastenings to ensure that they were, in fact, still silver-looking. "Uh, thank you…" He left the statement hanging, hoping she would identify herself.

"I'm Luna, everyone calls me Loony, but not Blaise. He's nice, and I'm glad the Snollies are gone."

Harry smiled. "People called my uncle Loony, he started to embrace it. What are Snollies exactly?"

Luna tilted her head to the side. "They're little creatures that live in people's noses. Some people say that they feed off of your health, and make you cold."

_Hmm, I'll ask Sirius about them then, that seems oddly specific._ "Luna, what do they look like?"

She stared at Harry, or rather, stared through him. "They're little and blue, they look kind of like humans, but with curved horns on their foreheads and scales on their torsos."

Harry filed that information away for later, he would certainly be asking Sirius about the creatures.

The odd girl suddenly decided that whatever she was looking at beyond Harry wasn't worth her time. She opened a magazine and started to read it upside down, Harry supposed that there was nothing wrong with that, it was simply odd.

The three students all sat in a companionable silence for the carriage ride, and they soon arrived at the castle.

Blaise stepped out first, and offered his hand to Luna. She nodded daintily as she took his hand and stepped down. Blaise and Harry watched her walk away as if in a trance. Blaise looked at Harry next. "I'm not helping you down."

Harry laughed as he jumped out of the carriage. He may or may not have manipulated his gravitational pull slightly to make it more impressive.

"Showoff…"

Harry smirked. "I'm going to go on ahead, let's not shock all of the Gryffindors and Slytherins on the first night. I think they only need one surprise tonight."

"Only one?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "The Tournament… Oh, you probably don't know about it, Sirius wouldn't really tell me how he knew. I only know it involves Noctem."

"And what, pray tell, is the Tournament?" Blaise was both curious, and irritated with Harry's seeming inability to give answers.

"You'll find out tonight." Harry pulled up his hood and disappeared, walking as quietly as possible.

Behind him, Harry heard Blaise mutter under his breath. "Why did I ever want a sibling?"

Harry smiled, and it nearly distorted the air with magic. _Me too Blaise._

* * *

The end of the feast had come, students and teachers both full to the brim with good food. Dumbledore rose from his elaborate, throne like chair, and spread his arms. He got the attention of every single student in a matter of moments.

"Now that we're all full up from the delectable cuisine of the Hogwarts Elves," Hermione, who was sitting quite far from Harry, gasped loudly. "I would like to make a few announcements. Firstly, there will be no Inter-House quidditch championship this year."

A great clamor arose from every table. The quidditch games were the only things to look forward to all month for first and second years, and nearly every member of a house went to their own games. The entire school normally came for Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.

Dumbledore waited for the students to calm down slightly. "Instead, I am pleased to announce that Hogwarts will be host of the Triwizard Tournament this year. There will be several restrictions placed on the games. Any student who would like to enter must be at least seventeen years of age, and have confidence in their skill."

"Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be sending their delegations soon, they will consist of the best witches and wizards that the two schools have to offer. We will be gracious hosts, and please do try to make friends. These games are to promote friendships with the other schools and countries."

"In addition to the Tournament, we will be playing host to a quidditch Tournament between our schools, a Dueling tournament, academic tournament and a challenge of your innovative minds. The first three are rather self-explanatory. The final one is somewhat more complicated. In the challenge, you will put to use any of your classes to create an enchantment, a spell, potion, or any other magical effect. The greatest of the innovations will be displayed to the entirety of Wizarding Europe. You will have to challenge the brightest Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have to offer, but do not be discouraged. You are in one of the greatest schools in the Wizarding world due to your talent and power."

Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and peered over his glasses. "The champions will be chosen by an impartial judge on October the Thirty-First."

The ancient Headmaster sat down, and subtly removed a voice modifying charm.

Without any kind of cue, the entire student body rose in an uproar, many names were called out, and many people adamantly stated they would be the champion. Harry was nearly certain that a Goblet designed to choose a good show would choose the shapeshifting Boy-Who-Lived if he entered.

_I won't. If it has to be done by me, it won't happen._

* * *

The feast ended, and students returned to their dorms. Harry walked with Hermione's dorm mate, Fay Dunbar and made idle conversation. It turned out that she would be one of his classmates in Arithmacy, and she found it extremely difficult. Sally Smith, the final girl in the Gryffindor dorms, elected to take Runes, but didn't have steady enough hands to draw the runes precisely.

Harry walked around a corner and nearly collided with the Headmaster. "Oh! Sorry professor."

The old man smiled benignly and his eyes were lit with a merry twinkle. "Harry, If you would please come to my office straight away after breakfast tomorrow, I will administer the tests for you to pass into your new classes. I strongly hope that you will pack some Pepper Imps, they may be quite helpful."

The old man winked and walked away, his gait was far too young for his ancient body.

"The man is completely whacked." Sally was also staring at the retreating form of the Headmaster, who started chuckling. "How did he hear me?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know." He sent a sidelong glace at her. "Whacked?"

She shrugged. "My cousins in America say it all the time. I spent most of the summer with them, so I've picked up a few things."

Almost as an afterthought she added, "They have the weirdest accents. Khakis?"

* * *

Raven's Borough was one of the most defensible Citadels ever built. The walls were made of tirisium, the wards were ancient and powerful, and there were once a dozen guards posted at every entrance. House Elves had been far more numerous than at Hogwarts, and Man-servants catered to every whim of visiting nobility. The grounds were spacious, the buildings were finely crafted, and the gardens were legendary.

The greatest appeal of the Borough however, was the Twilight Athenaeum, the legendary Black Library. All one had to do was speak to one of the many attendants, and ask for a tome, and it would be brought to you. None were allowed access inside without extensive blood oaths, or the direct blood of a Black. The Athenaeum was one of the single largest archives of magical knowledge in existence while at the height of its power. Since the burning of Alexandria, the Athenaeum was possibly the only place to find knowledge of the ancient times.

Before even the Romans encountered Britain, the earliest caretakers of the Twilight Athenaeum strode through its halls. Since then, it has closed and opened a dozen times, and it promised to do so a dozen more.

Kings and Emperors coveted its tomes, Dark Lords and Ladies launched themselves at the Onyx Gate of the Borough in order to gain access. None succeeded. In Nineteen-forty-three, the Dark Lord Gridelwald tried his hand at gaining access. He believed that since not a soul had tried for access in over a millennium, he would succeed. He did not. When he failed, he cast a spell inside a small crack in the wards. He destroyed the entirety of the Citadel, all that was left was rubble. Once the dust settled, a fire enveloped the premise. With a heavy heart, Arcturus Black informed the world that the Athenaeum burned.

Fearful for the life of his former lover, Albus Dumbledore hid him away in secret, providing a body to resemble his. The body was burned as an effigy, and every year since an effigy is created in Athens, Greece to symbolize the burning of Gellert Grindelwald.

Sirius Black was undertaking the extreme task of fully rebuilding the wards of the Borough. Without any maintenance for a thousand years, it was declared an impossibility by most. The majority of cursebreakers and warders said that no one could rebuild the wards.

Luckily, the wards were built on the blood of one family, and that family survived all those millennia, giving Sirius the blood necessary to do the impossible. His grey eyes turned silver from the magic working in the wards, and his crimson blood turned scarlet.

"Padfoot, why the hell did your family abandon the Borough?"

Sirius looked over his shoulder at his oldest friend. "I have no bloody idea."

Remus grunted, and the two continued rebuilding the wards. Sirius would do the majority of the work, and Remus would pour extra magic in when necessary or he would tackle Sirius out of explosions. "Would make this easier if your family kept the wards intact…"

"Pride Moony, pride and inbreeding."

Together the two men worked tirelessly to rebuild the most ancient of citadels, and hope to build the wards to the point that no one could enter. Then, they would read the books of the most famous library to grace the world.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hey guys, this update is early, but I'm going to be halfway across the country for a week, so I won't be updating on Sunday. I'll have my computer with me, but I don't know if I'll have any time to write. (I doubt that a moving car will be a suitable writing atmosphere.)**

**This is the longest chapter yet, because I wanted to take the time to go into more detail about the Potions class. Next chapter will deal with Arithmacy, and most likely Runes, so that means that I won't get to the Goblet for a little while longer.**

**Now, I stated that there would be an ingenuity challenge. If you want to, PM me your ideas, they might just make it into the story. No promises whatsoever, but I think that you guys might have some really cool ideas. If you don't want to, obviously you don't have to.**

**Enjoy the chapter, and I might not get one out next week either, it just depends on how much writing I'm able to do.**

* * *

Harry awoke at about the same time as his dorm mates, that is to say, too late. He rushed to shower and brush his teeth before getting dressed. All the times he was allowed to sleep in over the summer had really affected his sleeping habits. At the beginning of the school year he was normally the first one awake.

"Oi, Harry mate, wha' happened to your glasses?" Seamus' accent was highly pronounced in the mornings as well.

"Gone. I got my eyes fixed this summer."

Dean had just walked out of the shower, his leisurely pace was typical. "Hey, you should join the Quidditch tournament. Imagine, Harry Potter, nearly undefeated, with even better eyesight."

Ron's eyes widened and lit. "Harry, Krum is still in school. He's in his final year of Durmstrang. He should be here, and he'll be in the Quidditch championship. Just imagine flying against him…"

Harry smiled at the thought, he could certainly imagine it. The wind through his hair, the crowd cheering, the little golden ball just outside his fingers… He nodded to his dorm mates. "I'll sign up, it's not like it would take much to convince me. I am the best seeker in Hogwarts, and I don't want to lose to the French."

Neville guffawed, he was dressed and ready to leave the dorm. "The French are about as good on a broom as at defending Paris." The dorm erupted in raucous laughter, with no one expecting Neville to be the one to say that.

Everybody came and clapped Harry on the back, wishing him luck on the field, everybody but Ron, who only nodded.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Breakfast was phenomenal. Harry stuffed himself with everything in reach. He ate with less enthusiasm than Ron, but he still ate much more, and much faster, than the previous year. Professor McGonagall came by once he was done to hand him his timetable.

"This timetable, Mr. Potter, is contingent on the fact that you pass the tests administered to you by the Headmaster. Should you pass either test, you will not have to hear predictions of your death ever again."

Harry looked up at the aging professor with a gleam in his eyes. "That's what I'm hoping Professor."

"Mr. Potter, your parents were exceedingly talented, and I have seen their talent passed down to you. I beg you not to squander the power given to you."

Harry smiled as the stern woman's face melted slightly. "Professor, that's what I intend to do. My uncles have been teaching me about magic and myself over the summer, I think you'll find I am a very different person than the Harry Potter you taught last year."

"I look forward to the prospect, I truly do."

Seeing that Neville was done eating as well, Professor McGonagall strode over to the boy. His confidence was seriously lacking, and he seemed to quiver under the gaze of his head of house.

Harry looked at his timetable and groaned. Fay, who had decided that Harry shouldn't be sitting alone, looked questioningly at Harry.

"It's a Friday, right?" Fay nodded, looking worried. The two of them did share core classes after all.

"History of Magic first, followed by Charms, then double Potions with the Slytherins." Fay dropped her head to the table hard enough to shake her plate.

"Please tell me you're pulling my leg."

Harry shook his head, looking apologetic. "At least there is an even number of us, so no one has to pair up with them."

She nodded slowly. "But, it's Snape. He might decide to pair me up with Parkinson just because he doesn't like me."

Harry laughed quietly. "No, he doesn't mind you, you're a pureblood. He's too busy hating Neville, Hermione, and me."

She snorted very unladylike. "He's never too busy to hate someone. Besides, I'm the third girl of my family, fourth child. I'm rather worthless politically, and it would be an insult to marry me."

"Fay, any guy would be lucky to have you. Never think that you're worthless, because by your definition, so was my Mum. She became Lady Potter."

Fay smiled brightly. "You shouldn't go egging people on like that Harry. Half the girls in this school have crushes on you. You're just too oblivious to see it."

"I assume you're on the sane half?"

Fay looked confused. "Sane?"

"Yes, sane. The half of the girls that recognize that I'm damn sexy." Harry leaned back in his seat and smirked at her.

She cocked her head to the side. "Sexy, maybe. Malodourous, certainly." She smirked and stood to go get her timetable from Professor McGonagall, then walked straight out of the Great Hall.

It took a second for Harry to process what she said. "Hey!"

She was long gone, but Parvati laughed openly. "You should get faster on the uptake Harry."

Harry buried his face in his hands. "Not you too."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Of course me too, someone has to teach you cutting wit."

"I'll just have Ginny do that." Parvati looked at the redhead in question with a face of puzzlement. "She's a genius at wordplay."

Parvati smiled. "Really? Maybe I'll have to take the girl under my wing."

Harry raised his eyebrow at her. "You're in Gryffindor. You don't have a wing. Your sister is the twin in Ravenclaw. I'm sorry if I'm causing an existential crisis, but I figured you should know."

She shoved Harry a bit, and Professor McGonagall gave her her own time table. Harry smiled as she glared at her Friday. She was rather pretty, and Harry was surprised by the number of girls in Hogwarts that could easily be described as beautiful. As he looked around, there wasn't a single girl that was truly out of shape, and most had attractive features. _Being magical is so much better than not…_

Harry smiled and glanced at the Headmaster. Dumbledore inclined his head and rose to go to his office.

Checking to make sure he packed some pepper imps, Harry quickly strode after him.

Harry wandered after the aging headmaster with enthusiasm in his steps. All summer he had been preparing for these tests, now he would get to take them. Harry was going to show the world that he would be better than his parents, and better than Voldemort.

Professor Dumbledore walked in seeming circles. He would duck into alcoves and crevices in the walls, only to step out and continue walking forward. Nearly every hallway looked foreign to Harry, even though he'd walked them every day for three years. Dumbledore turned around a corner, and when Harry turned the same way, he wasn't there.

The stone gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office stood unblinking at Harry, silently asking for the password. Harry couldn't believe it, he had been on the first floor a matter of minutes ago, and now, after walking on level ground, he was on the seventh floor.

Harry stood in front of the gargoyle, not sure of the password. _I strongly hope that you will pack some Pepper Imps, they may be quite helpful._

"Pepper Imps."

The gargoyle jumped out of the way, irritated about something. Harry walked up the automatically moving staircase quickly, wishing to see what the tests held. Daphne's words about not having finished the Norse and Celtic runes made Harry certain he would pass Runes. Harry also studied vast amounts of high-level Arithmacy in order to create his gram. At the very least, he could have Dumbledore pull it out of his shoulder and show it to Professor Vector.

As he was walking to Dumbledore's door, it opened for him. In the center of Dumbledore's large office were a very large, very plush chair and a simple desk. Dumbledore sat at his desk, a gentle smile on his lips and in his eyes. His long silvery hair was tucked into his belt, and his hideous purple clothes were adorned with small golden belly dancers.

More than anything else, the man's fashion caught Harry completely off guard. He didn't really care about the several dozen silver instruments on a table to his left, nor did the absence of Fawkes perturb him. The old man's clothes were so shockingly ugly that Harry was pulled out of any reverie.

"Ah, Harry my boy, it's good to be able to chat."

"There are belly dancers on your robes." Harry couldn't help himself, it was just so… Odd.

Dumbledore looked down as if he had never seen such a thing, and the dancers turned into small horses galloping along. As soon as he lifted his head, the horses became dancers again. Dumbledore did this several times before giving up.

"You may be interested to know that I am given my clothes by those who would like to help me make a fashion statement. Your mother gave me these robes many years ago. I now understand why people laugh when I wear them."

Harry smiled, after hearing so many stories over the summer, the fact that his mother gave the man the robes didn't surprise him. "She sounds like an amazing woman. I just wish I could remember more of her."

The old man's smile lessened slightly. "Yes, one of the finest years we've ever had here was when your parents lead the school. I didn't pick your father for Head Boy by some passing fancy, I chose the two most popular students in the school, and thrust them before their peers. They rallied the students better than any heads I have ever appointed. I was firm in the belief that James Potter would one day be the Minister, and I am eternally saddened that our country would never see that eventuality."

Dumbledore's head bowed for a moment in a far-gone memory. "Now, Harry, would you like to take your Runes test, or your Arithmacy test first?"

"Runes, it takes a bit less thinking capacity. I'll need to be a bit more awake if I'm going to ace the Arithmacy."

Dumbledore smiled at the young teen. "I see, I have always been a morning person myself, but if that is not who you are, I can easily understand your reasoning. This test will be standardized, and once you pick up the quill you will have two hours to complete it. Are there any questions?" In the latter half of the man's speech he became far more of a teacher than Harry had ever seen.

"No sir." Harry sat in the overly fluffy chair and picked up the quill.

The test was very complex, it had a few dozen multiple choice questions related to Norse and Celtic runes, asking things like what was the difference between Nordic 'Condemnation' and 'Slavery'. The Celtic runes were more for things like farming, and helping life. The Nordic runes were primarily focused on wartime usage. They had things to repel water from a surface, useful on boats or docks, or to ensure that wind always hit a sail properly. The Celtic and Nordic runes for water were nearly identical, but the Nordic had a hook facing right, as opposed to the left facing hook of the Celts.

There were longer questions regarding the magical principles imbued in the Ley Lines. One tricky question asked how the solstices would affect the attributes of the rune for 'Hope', in both languages.

Harry set down his quill and quickly read through the test, hoping to spot any mistakes. Ultimately he was satisfied with his work, and declared himself finished. The test 'locked' and became unchangeable, and the quill burst into flames.

Dumbledore looked at a clock on the wall, smiling. "One hour and seventeen minutes. Well done. I will check this over, and you have a small break before you will start on your Arithmacy exam." The old headmaster temporarily abandoned his 'teacher' phase. "Would you care for a lemon drop?"

Harry graciously declined. He stood up to stretch his legs a bit, then started thinking about his summer experiences with Remus. He mentally reviewed the ways parabola affected vectors, and how ninety degree angles worked in certain formulae but not others.

After a few minutes, Harry began the test. It was comparatively simple, he only had to identify every governing principle of a few magical diagrams. It took about an hour to find and write down each of them, but he was confident that he found them all.

Again, he checked over his work, and found a mistake. Quickly deciding to fix it, he stumbled on to a problem, if he fixed the issue he had, he would break the entire spell. If he left it alone, it would look like he was right, when in fact it would be an incomplete diagram. Scribbling furiously to avoid the winding down timer, Harry explained all the intricate details about his dilemma.

Almost as soon as he put the final period on his parchment, it sealed itself and his quill burst into flames. Harry handed the rolled up parchment to the Headmaster, and received his Runes test back.

"Very well done my boy. Top marks indeed, if you had been in the class last year I daresay that you would have scored the top three students." Dumbledore steeped his fingers. "What could you have done this summer to have gained such a skill in absorbing information?"

Harry lifted his hair to show the headmaster his scar, the faint white lines showing clearly against his tan. "I had my scar looked at, the goblins removed it without my asking, and it seems to have been inhibiting my learning potential. Sirius has also been helping me every day, and he is very good with runes."

Dumbledore's grandfatherly face lost all of its charm or charisma. He looked every day of his age, and then some. "The scar was hampering you?"

Harry's face showed his confusion at Dumbledore. "Yes, why?"

The old man's head dropped. "When I left you with your Aunt and Uncle, I had to opportunity to remove your scar. I now know that if I had, you would have been happier. It is a bitter pill to swallow. I had believed that you would enjoy the idea of a memento."

Harry shook his head. "From what I understand about my father, I can see why you would think I would enjoy the scar. However, given my living situations, I have grown in such a way that I hate it. I thought that you might have had the chance to remove it though, and I'm glad you didn't. The goblins described a 'wraith' flying out of the wound and possessing one of them. Four goblins died fighting it before it fell. If you tried to remove it, who knows what would have happened to you."

"If I may make a theory, Headmaster, I think that it could have been a piece of Voldemort himself. In that way, I had a connection to him. His magic was in my body, allowing me to use his parseltongue. I didn't mention it to him, but Bill talked about something called an 'Ankh' in one of the tombs he worked in. He said it was the necklace of a long dead pharaoh, and it contained that pharaoh's soul. The soul possessed an apprentice that was working the dig, and she killed herself to be rid of the pain of possession. I think that the piece of him in my scar tried to possess me, but wasn't aware enough to succeed, or I am simply resistant to it."

"That is most troubling, and I hereby award fifty points to Gryffindor for your excellent deduction. I will take your observations to heart and mind, and I will get back to you on my research regarding them." The Headmaster's face had lost all of its color during Harry's speech.

"Now, Hagrid is currently not busy, I think that you wanted to speak to him? Please note, with the incident between Buckbeak and Mr. Malfoy last year, he is being carefully monitored in his teachings. I think that taking an apprentice would help him immensely." The old man's eye's customary twinkle was radiant.

"I will find you to give you back your score on the Arithmacy exam when I have finished looking it over."

It was obviously a dismissal, and Harry nodded respectfully to the man.

"Oh, and Harry, I apologize for trying to get you to leave your Godfather's at the beginning of the summer. It is obvious to anyone with vision that it has been the best place for you."

Harry nodded, the man was certainly apologizing a lot, but he also needed to work on his foresight. "Yes sir, he's a great man."

0o0o0o0o0o0

Hagrid's hut was on fire. Harry sighed as he saw it. Somehow the man managed to set his own home on fire two or three times a year. After rushing to help twice in first year, Harry just watched and waited. Hagrid had his frilly pink umbrella pouring out vast amounts of magic water.

Harry was amazed by the show. The _Auguamenti _charm could create a controlled jet of water, but the torrential power and volume that Hagrid created was insane.

_Who knew Hagrid had that much magic?_

Hagrid's water slowed as he doused the flames on his hut. He laughed loudly as he picked up a small creature in his giant arms. "Don' do tha' again yeh little guy." Hagrid had what seemed to be a small pink creature in his arms.

"Yeh' like to make things explode eh little guy? They'll 'ave fun with yeh!"

Harry sincerely hoped he wasn't talking about students. The pink thing exploded from one end of its body and shot forward out of Hagrid's arms. It landed in his garden, where it exploded again to try to make it to the forest. Hagrid lazily waved his umbrella in a circle, as if to show boredom, and the pink thing flew back towards him. He picked it up and placed it in a wooden box, undoubtedly charmed to be fire resistant.

Harry walked up towards the giant man. "Hey Hagrid!"

Hagrid turned his big beady eyes on Harry. He smiled warmly, his giant bushy beard pushed up toward his hair. "Harry! I was wonderin' when yeh would come visit me. Yeh said yeh wanted teh talk about your classes? I couldn'a help but notice yeh dropped mine."

Harry was glad that the large man didn't hold it against him. "Yeah, I wanted to ask if I could get private lessons. I want to know about more interesting creatures, the kind that you need to go for an Echo class handling license to learn about. Class work on creatures just seems so boring, especially after Buckbeak last year."

Hagrid's eyes lit up like bonfires. "I was hope'n you would ask tha'! 'O course I can give yeh private lessons. Look, this is a Blast-ended Skrewt. I bred them for potions ingredients."

Harry looked in the box that Hagrid placed the pink thing in. It was ugly, and looked like a giant slug with insect legs. It exploded from the 'Blast-End' and Harry watched it run into the wall. "Is it blind?"

"No, just young and stupid. They're a new creature. I was hoping for a way to make manticore quills that could resist tremendous heat, so I bred a manticore and a fire crab. It made these."

Harry tried to wrap his head around that. Manticores were notoriously dangerous, and highly intelligent. Fire Crabs, were just crabs that lived in lava instead of water. How could they breed?

"Magic Harry. It's teh answer to almost everythin'. Now, I don' give much Homework, how abou' yeh have your lessons with me at night? We'll have teh go into the forest, and you would be helpin' me with my Gamekeepin' duties. We'd patch up the animals of the forest, and you could learn a lot abou' them."

Harry smiled, he had wanted to learn the forest anyway. "That would be great! I only have astronomy on Wednesday nights. Dumbledore told me you should take an apprentice, and I would be more than happy to take that spot.

"Thanks Harry. Yer a real life-saver there. How abou' Mondays and Fridays for yer lessons?"

Harry grinned at the large man. "That sounds good. Do you want to start tonight or next week?"

Hagrid stroked his giant beard. "How abou' we start at teh end of next week?"

"Sure! I don't have anything good going for me on Fridays, so that will be nice."

Hagrid laughed at Harry and clapped him on the back. "I'm glad teh be of service Harry. Ah! Professor Dumbledore is waving yeh over. I'll see yeh later Harry."

The large man lumbered into his hut, his great feet shaking the ground the entire way.

Harry turned to see the headmaster standing on the steps, parchment in hand, and jovial smile on his lips. He had changed out of his shocking purple robes, and into nearly equally shocking tan ones with white pegusai. He handed the parchment to Harry, his smile broadening. "I am very glad that you have learned to apply yourself to your school work over the summer. The points you raised in the brief summary about the conflicting parabola have been answered on the paper. You have the highest score in Arithmacy for your classmates, your work on the conflicting rays put you above even Ms. Granger. Your work here simply proves that I made a mistake in trying to return you to your family."

Harry's emerald eyes met the Headmaster's twinkling blue ones. "It's about time you figured that out professor, those people never saw me as family. Now, if there isn't anything else, I should get to lunch. I don't want to be late for my first Potions lesson of the year."

Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle for a moment, but not long enough to actually convey any meaning. "Of course, I doubt Professor Snape would be very forgiving."

Harry thanked the headmaster for his time, and for allowing him to change courses, and walked toward the Great Hall. The stone walls of the castle echoed the sound of hundreds of students walking, running, or even limping to get food. Shouts, voices, and spells were echoed through the great walls of the ancient castle.

The Great Hall was packed with nearly all students; it always was at the beginning of the year. There weren't any people skipping, nor were there any pick-up sports games going on the grounds.

Looking up and down the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, Harry picked out people from most of the houses, sitting and chatting with friends from across house borders. Not a single Slytherin was anywhere but their table, nor was anyone paying them visits. Daphne and Tracey were having a quiet discussion, and Blaise seemed to be suffering through a lecture from Malfoy.

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table. There would come a day where he would sit at Slytherin, but the first day of classes didn't seem wise. The lunch menu was always simpler, mostly sandwiches and salads. There were always foods left over after feasts, Harry eagerly tucked into the food from the previous night. The House Elves always seemed to reheat the foods at the same flavor and texture as if it was fresh, meaning there was no reason not to eat leftovers. That didn't seem to sink in for the Muggleborns, some of whom were avoiding the last night's dishes like the plague.

Harry chuckled at Lavender Brown, who was deftly avoiding certain foods. She was easily the pickiest eater in Gryffindor. In previous summers, Harry would have killed for the leftovers on her plate.

Before Harry could take a jaunt down memory lane, Fay sat right in front of him. "How did the exams go?"

Harry grinned through his mouthful of food. Unlike Ron, Harry actually swallowed before responding. "Great. I did better than Hermione on Arithmacy, and I'm in the top three for Runes. I think that just means that three people got perfect scores."

Fay stopped spooning food onto her plate to glare into Harry's eyes. "I worked so, so hard for rank ten in Arithmacy. I can't believe you managed to beat Hermione."

Harry shrugged and leaned back, crossing his arms. "In her defense, she probably got a perfect score. I just found an error in the exam and explained how the entire exam is set up to fail because of conflicting rays. Dumbledore was impressed, and whoever wrote the exam will probably get fired for that. We're paying huge amounts of money to go to one of the best schools in the world, we shouldn't have to deal with wrong answers printed on the Teacher's version, or rigged Arithmacy circuits."

Fay nodded enthusiastically. "Do you think they'll give bonus points for the messed up exam?"

"It's possible I suppose, but unlikely. The amount of legwork and man-hours wouldn't be worth it to the average employee."

"But, as you said, we are paying huge amounts of money." Fay pointed at Harry's chest with her fork, a piece of lettuce hanging off the edge of it.

"Yes, and there are enough heirs of noble families here that it would be a huge embarrassment. That's the reason I said unlikely, not impossible. We're talking about hundreds of man hours, maybe thousands, for what the average employee will see as spoiled brats that want better scores on their tests. People would quit, some would be fired, and the examination company might die."

Fay's eyes had grown ever wider through Harry's explanation. "When did you become so business savvy?"

"Pranking this summer. It's all about planning and follow-through, and then you have to clean up your mess. I've learned quite a bit about cleaning up." Harry answered and stood. "I have to go to the commons room to get my potions textbook. I'll see you in class."

Fay looked like she had forgotten potions with the snakes was next. "Be warned, I overheard other students complaining that they're trying to promote inter-house unity. We might actually get split up into the pit of vipers."

Harry grinned at the brunette. "You're worrying for nothing. I speak their language."

She cocked her head to the side. "Politics won't help you make a potion with a snake trying to sabotage it."

"Who said anything about politics? _I actually speak the language of vipers."_ Harry whispered the last half of his statement in parseltongue, causing the brown haired girl to shiver slightly.

"That is so creepy…"

0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry shouldered his bag, the Gryffindor dormitory looked unusual to the average eye. Ron's portion was messy, with posters and candy wrappers thrown about. Seamus's was completely spotless, he was the neat-freak in the dorm. Dean's had non-mobile pitcures of football players hanging on the walls. Neville had a plant thriving under a were-light, his expert hand would cut away the leaves and stems in such a way that they could grow back in a matter of days.

Harry walked over to Neville's plant, he had forgotten what Neville had said it was called last year, but each leaf was apparently worth seven sickles. It had long red thorns and vibrant green leaves, at least on the top. The bottom of the leaves were blood-red, and smelled strongly of honey.

Neville's voice came from behind Harry. "Don't touch the thorns, they're somewhat poisonous. It's no big deal except for a bit of loss of motor control. We don't need that right before potions."

Harry pulled his hand back, it was within inches of one of the long thorns. "Thanks. Say, Neville, have you ever heard of the book _Potions Basics and Parallels_?"

Neville thought for a moment, then grabbed his remembrall. It remained smoky black, causing Harry to note that Snape truly never did talk about it. Neville held up the little ball. "Obviously I haven't. What is the book for?"

"Everything a first year potions professor could ever hope for. It is a self-teaching method for students to learn how to add ingredients, the principles of slicing versus crushing, and it explains a bit about potions schema."

"What? Why didn't Professor Snape assign that book? And what is a Potions Schema?"

Harry chuckled slightly, and motioned that the two of them needed to get moving. "First, Snape is simply a horrid professor, and I have given up trying to understand why he would sabotage anyone. Even if the person he's sabotaging is himself. Second, a Potion Schema is a diagram of how potions ingredients work together to get an effect. It shows the intended effect in the center of the Schema, then it displays 'strings' that branch out and connect the ingredients together. It's a bit difficult to explain without simply showing you, but you should certainly get the book. I think it's the first in a small set, and all of them could probably help you immensely."

Walking quickly through the corridors, Neville had to sidestep a first-year who was looking for their class. ("It's down the next hall and two doors on the right.") "I'll get that. Why is he allowed to be a professor here anymore? There's not a single person who likes him, save his own house and that can't really count."

Turning a corner to descend the stairs into the dungeon, Harry thought about how to word his next sentence. "The Slytherins are in an odd position. On one hand, Snape favours them, but on the other, I know for a fact that they've never heard of the book I just told you about. They're not getting much of a better education than we are, just better bonuses from his bias."

"That's true, but just look at them, it's not really how the deal with me that I care about anymore. The ones in our class, Malfoy and Nott in particular, love to mess with the younger years. They love the protection they get from being able to just run crying to their head of house."

Harry nodded then made a slashing motion across his neck, signaling to kill the conversation. He lowered his voice significantly. "Here in the dungeons, conversations can echo. We can talk more later."

Neville inclined his head slightly and heard the remnants of Harry's whisper floating in the air. He turned his head slightly and heard a commotion in front of them, where the potions classroom was.

Malfoy was posturing again, his shoulders back and his chin upright. He looked down on Sally Smith, seemingly towering over her. Sally's eyes were moist with unshed tears.

Tracey moved slightly, directly into Harry's path and not giving him time to react. He just managed to not stumble, but he found a piece of parchment in his hand.

Written on it was a simple command. _Declare yourself Heir Black, in front of all of the Slytherins._

Hoping that she meant all his year mates, Harry reached an arm around Sally's slightly trembling shoulders. "Sally, don't worry about him. He's just a jealous ponce who can't tie his own shoes without aid from his father or head of house."

Sally smiled, which was the intention all along.

Malfoy fumed. His lips drew together and quivered with the force he was exerting through every muscle in his body. "You're one to talk Potter. You can't even wear decent muggle clothes. They're what, five sizes too big? It's a true shame to see how far the house of Potter has fallen."

Harry was in a bit of a corner, how could he refute what Malfoy just said? It was true, and everyone there knew it.

As they say, the truth will set you free. Harry just hoped this didn't come back to bite him. "That's not my fault. You see, my Aunt and Uncle, on my mother's side of course, raised me. I was the unwanted nephew to distract from their own son. Ever the fools, they didn't believe my father and Godfather when the two men told them they were Noble Lords. Growing up, I didn't know your culture, I didn't know your world. However, this summer I have done quite a bit. I'm now well on my way to becoming the Nobility that my family's land deserves, and my clothes fit. Besides, if the House of Potter has fallen, shouldn't you also say that it is shaming to see how far the house of Black has fallen?"

Nott stood to Malfoy's defense. "Draco is Heir Black, it's not shaming at all, he is a perfect pureblood."

Harry raised an eyebrow, it seemed the Slytherins were rubbing off on him. "When, Draco, did you become Heir Black?"

This time Parkinson spoke for Malfoy, although he didn't seem to have the colour in his face to even move his jaw. "He always has been!"

Harry crossed his arms and shook his head, moving his foot forward slightly. To those who knew how to read body language, he simply said 'test me'. "I am Heir Black Parkinson. I have been since the day I was born, and Lord Black was declared my Godfather. Should he die, I will receive forty-five percent of everything he owns." It was a bluff, he would get everything, but Malfoy didn't need to know that.

"Oh? And where would the other Fifty-five percent go? I'm sure that it would be a more suitable benefactor." Malfoy was grasping at straws, and he knew it. He kept glancing at the potions classroom door, hoping salvation would come in the form of Snape.

"Yes Malfoy, it would. The majority of the gold in the Black vaults would go to places for orphans and beggars, the Black fortune would go to those less fortunate. We wouldn't want to sully the Black family motto and make people think we were rotten or corrupt, would we? _Toujours Pur, _Draco, always pure of heart and intent."

It was a corruption of the true Black family motto, but it was so close, and so romanticized, that people believed it. It truly meant for blood, but intent and heart wouldn't be hard to shift it into, blood and heart were very close after all.

Salvation came too late for Malfoy. His classmates were looking at him like he was a traitor, and he himself was stuttering, hoping to find something to say, anything to refute what Harry said. Sure, he could refute the principles of _Toujours Pur_, but as a Pureblood supremacist, he wouldn't have much credence.

Snape opened the door finally, and beckoned the classes in. The Slytherins moved to the right side of the classroom, while the Gryffindors moved to the left. Snape walked down the center aisle, his bat like robes billowing in his wake.

Snape's desk was cluttered with quills, inkpots, and fountains of light. He placed his hands on the edge of the polished wood, and looked at a piece of parchment before him. His eyes would dart from the names to the people, making eye-contact with everyone. It was an odd practice, all he should have to do is tap the paper, and roll would be taken.

When Potter, Harry was reached, Snape's eyes met Harry's own. There was a spark in them, almost like a kind twinkle, but far more malevolent. His eyes drew Harry in, and knowledge was pulled to the forefront of Harry's mind.

"_It would take skill for someone to manipulate my mind. As Heir Black, I was taught occulmency from a very young age. To be able to confound me, Snape would have had to learn to avoid Occulding barriers, such as the ones I had."_

_Sirius was sitting on his favorite chair, his arms splayed across the back of the cushions and his feet propped on the table. He looked very little like a Pureblood lord, rather like a homeless beggar. Harry had only been on the island a week, and Sirius's body was bony and pale._

"_That means, that Snape was a practiced legillimens even in fifth year. If you can, avoid eye contact with him, and if you can't just make sure your mind is your own."_

Harry found the memory coming to him, he supposed it was because of Sirius's warning not to look Snape in the eye. But as Snape's face registered anger, Harry knew what was happening. He locked eyes with the Potion's Master again, and willed another memory to the surface.

_Sirius's eyes were the definition of anger, the steel color could rip into a man's mind with a glare. He opened his mouth, but all that could be seen was his cheeks rising. "Never enter my Godson's mind again Snape. If you do, you'll wish that you were faster all those years ago, and James never saved your sorry excuse for a life."_

The memory was real, but the anger was only partly. Sirius had provided the memory as a weapon and a warning. The anger in his eyes was the result of the thought of Snape in Harry's mind, and forced anger.

Snape staggered slightly. Anyone who wasn't watching wouldn't have noticed it, but everyone was watching. Recovering quickly, Snape spoke quickly.

"The Board of Governors has decided that in light of the Triwizard Tournament, the houses need to mingle. This means that you will all be forced to partner with a student from the opposite house."

Snape picked up a list and smiled, it was predatory and cruel. "Draco Malfoy, and Ronald Weasley."

Both students started yelling, but a wave of Snape's wand silenced them. "There will be absolutely no arguing. These people will be your partners until the Christmas Holidays."

"Pansy Parkinson, and Hermione Granger."

Hermione looked at the pug-like pureblood with revulsion, and was met by a look of contempt.

"Theodore Nott, and Neville Longbottom."

"Blaise Zabini, and Harry Potter."

Harry let out the breath he was holding, he had though he might be stuck with the overgrown apes, who were paired with Dean and Seamus. He walked over to Blaise's table, who had been sitting with Tracey, but she moved over to sit with Fay, who although was irritated with sitting next to a Slytherin, she was happy it wasn't Parkinson.

Blaise grinned and motioned in Snapes direction. "He screwed up, if he wanted to make everyone unhappy he could have switched Malfoy and me. Now, I know that I won't fail miserably."

Harry looked at Ron, who was sitting two rows ahead of him. "He's not bad at potions, it's just that he's so slow and exacting. His portion sizes are always spot on, he just isn't fast enough with a knife or mortar and pestle."

"And you?"

"Eh, I'm decent at it. Hopefully I'll be better this year instead of blundering."

"Why? Did something change?"

"Yeah, go read _Potions Basics and Parallels. _It's a book that will explain everything Snape didn't."

With everyone in their places, Snape continued speaking, his voice ghosting over the assembled students, only a whisper escaped his lips, but not a soul missed the words. "This year, two of the best schools in the world will bear witness to the finest students the United Kingdom has to offer. This year I will be harsher, I will be more intense. Do not mistake me, we will be the best school here, because we have the legacy. I will expect nothing less than excellence. If you do not receive an Outstanding, it will only be an acceptable. There will not be any Exceeds Expectations, as my expectations are Outstanding."

"You will be brewing a potion to burn water, the instructions are on the board. Begin."

Harry stood stock still as the instructions revealed themselves, they would be using Manticore Quills and Hellspores, neither of which are normally used until sixth year. He turned to Blaise, who was also staring at the board.

"Any Ideas?"

Blaise chuckled then started walking toward the basic ingredient cupboard. "Yeah, don't get blown up."

Harry walked toward the cupboard for advanced ingredients, there were only a handful of students there, the ones that realized how dangerous the two reagents were. Harry quickly got four Manticore Quillls, the recipe only called for three, but he didn't want to take any chances.

_Hagrid, you may have saved my potion._ Harry shook his head at the improbability of Hagrid mentioning the fact that Manticore Quills didn't handle heat well.

Suddenly struck by an idea, Harry walked to the potions professor. "Sir, I know the Manticore Quills deteriorate at high heats, but I don't know the precise temperature. Since we can't be expected to know NEWT level potion reagent properties, could you enlighten us to what temperature that is?"

The Potions Professor glared at the fourteen year old. "Yes, Potter, you seemed to have learned something this summer. Manticore Quills will burn at seven-hundred degrees when freshly acquired. After harvesting, the number drops from seven hundred to somewhere between four hundred and four hundred and fifty."

Harry thanked the man quickly, then walked back to his desk. Blaise had arranged all of the basic ingredients in a semi-circle around his cutting board and other preparatory items. "So?"

"Manticore Quills degrade at somewhere between four hundred and four hundred and fifty degrees. I need to know the exact temperature for this. You need to see if you can take an edge off of the Hellspore's heat production."

Blaise nodded then ran to the basic ingredients again, grabbing a ball of fur of some sort. Harry placed an iron skillet on a heat source, carefully setting the thermometer so that he could find the exact point the quill lost it's potential.

After careful observation, Harry noted the quill melted slightly at four hundred and thirty-seven degrees. Blaise had added the snow white fur into a mortar and pestle, and was grinding it into a powder with the Hellspores. Somehow, as the ingredients mixed, they cooled off.

Blaise explained the fur. "It's Eurasian Mountain Mouse fur. It'll cool off the hottest of potions without damaging any effects. I don't really know where I learned that, but it's the most useful thing we have right now. If he doesn't bias against you too badly we'll certainly get an O for this alone."

Since they got the dangerous steps out of the way, Blaise and Harry managed to finish the potion in an hour and a half, over fifteen minutes before anyone else.

Before they bottled it, Harry reached into his bag to grab an unbreakable vial. "Hold on, I want some of this for myself."

Carefully ladling the potion into the vial, Harry noticed a slight distortion in the air before him.

"I placed an illusion. I don't know what my esteemed head of house would do if he found you taking some of that. It's certainly dangerous probably too dangerous to legally have fourteen year olds making."

Harry placed the vial back in his bag, and dealt up a potion for himself and Blaise. He handed it to Blaise to give to the Professor, and they both walked out of the class together, both of them before anyone else.

"Well, I know he's normally brutal in his first potion of the year, but did that seem like a bit much to you?" Punctuating Harry's statement came a rather loud explosion.

"Longbottom…" Blaise muttered while shaking his head. "Yes it did, but this is Snape we're talking about. He's a few knuts short of a galleon." Blaise looked over Harry's shoulder at the potions door, Nott was leaving next to a badly burnt Neville.

"How did Nott manage not to get burned while Longbottom's got it all over him?" Blaise looked at the burns on Neville's face and arms with pity.

Harry shook his head and sighed. "Sabotage. I knew Neville was too good at herbology to fail potions this badly." He looked over his shoulder at the ugly red, purple and black wounds on Neville's hands and face.

"I'll see you later Harry. I should get going." Blaise walked away from Harry at a sedate pace, the perfect air of casual irritation. He was very good at pretending to be annoyed by Gryffindors.

Harry walked over to his roommate. "Hey, Neville, let's get you to the infirmary."

Neville nodded, wincing from the pain of motion.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The hospital wing was oddly named. It wasn't a wing, but rather a single, long room. Beds lined both walls, with magical currents of air blowing over each bed, providing either heating or cooling to the infirm. The beds themselves were starched white linen, providing the feeling of being completely free of contagions. At the far end of the room stood a low stone wall, topped with tall glass panes. Madame Pomphrey walked quickly to the two boys as they entered, slowly dragging one of Neville's legs.

The healer looked down at Nevilles burns with an expression of pity, but no real shock. "What happened to Mr. Longbottom?"

It took a moment for Harry to realize she was addressing him. "All I know is that we were working with Hellspores, and Neville's cauldron exploded.

The Hospital Matron waved her wand over Neville's body in a recurring arc. His pain visibly decreased, and Harry recognized it as a numbing spell, making a silent note to learn the incantation.

Neville's eyes constantly threatened to close, and he was quickly losing the uphill battle to remain awake. Harry was concerned on his way up, but the healer didn't seem to be a bit worried. She levitated his nearly unconscious body onto one of the cool beds and began the process of undressing the boy. The white dividers moved of their own accord to separate the Gryffindor from any watching eyes.

After a couple of minutes Madame Pomphrey came out. She walked briskly over to where Harry sat on the edge of a bed. "Are you injured at all Mr. Potter?"

He shook his head violently. "No. No, I had already finished and turned in the potion before he got burnt. I was just the only one in the hall to bring him here."

The motherly matron's gaze softened. "You did well, ten points to Gryffindor. Who was his partner?"

"Theodore Nott."

"Twenty points from Slytherin then. As his partner, Nott should have brought Neville to me."

"How long will he be in here?"

"About three days, he should miss his first Monday at school, and his first weekend, but he should also be glad no shrapnel got into his torso." The Hospital Matron turned on her heel to her office, while muttering about abysmal safety precautions in the Potions classroom.

Harry walked out of the Hospital wing and ran his hand along the brick wall, idly thinking about Nott. There was a time for pranks, and a time for real retaliation. Only Nott could say which he would take.


End file.
